bitter work

Seeing another article about a ‘rogue’ conduit apprehended in the line of duty, James realised that he knew little of what had happened during the ‘Third World War’. At the time he had watched the news but with a baby and a law practice his plate had been rather full. It was that morning article, so innocuous, that had made him realise he knew little of the true ins and outs. So he went to the library.

In the three years since the ‘end’, James doubted there would be many accurate reflections on the subject, but…well, his life was rather on the empty side at the moment and he had the time. Clad in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt, James put on a jacket - though with the sunshine it may be a layer too much - and went off in search.

There he found very little on the topic but borrowed one book, which he took to the park to begin reading. How long had it been since he had read a textbook…his brain felt out of practice as he scanned the chapter titles. 

Not so out of practice that he believed everything written. It was obvious that this particular title was working off some very, very lacking evidence. James groaned as he gave up, stood up, and chucked the book in the bin.

Ever since moving to Chicago a few months ago, Robin felt himself going through more and more culture shocks than he’d ever anticipated. Of course being in any new, foreign place warranted that whole fish out of water feeling, but there were a couple of things that just purely baffled him. He’d decided going to the park would be an outing that would leave little room to fluster him - everybody liked parks, right? And most parks were par for the course, unless they had intensely strict rules about not walking on the grass or no pets. But this one didn’t seem to have either.

He’d settled himself on a bench by himself, preferring to spend the time solo as he people watched and bit into the sandwich he’d gotten from a corner deli. It was all going fairly well, until he noticed a guy across from him seem to stand up abruptly and, to his great surprise, toss a book into the receptacle. Now, certain items did indeed belong in the bin, but a book? Surely it couldn’t have been that awful. Before the guy even turned around, Robin had whistled in his direction, raising his free hand in a questioning gesture. “You just make a habit of tossing your books in the bin?”