Jelly Tots

The book is boring; it goes in the discard box. At 4 o’clock I begin to pace. Seven steps across, seven steps back, for twenty minutes. I get out the two hard copies of The Madrigal, both outdated. I read through the hand-written comments on one of them: it seems the book might be good; at least one person thinks so, according the the evidence before me. I spend a good half-hour savouring those comments before moving on to an as-yet-unsolved dilemma: to print another hard copy? To save the trees or my eyes? In a box of pens and pencils I find a long-hidden bag of Jelly Tots. It is like finding gold.