TITLE: WHERE ODD FELLOWS REST
It was going to be one of those days, she could tell. Something was going to happen today. She knew it when she woke up this morning, the second she opened her eyes. She could feel it in her bones. A gut feeling. A sense. Women’s intuition. Or, maybe, she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Whatever it was, she was hoping it would pass. But when she arrived at her office at The Times-Picayune, a grey mood still hung over her like a growing storm cloud.
A slender woman with intense eyes, she sat behind her desk and flipped open the newspaper, finding immediately what she was searching for -- the article with her byline, KK McKnaught, the one she had written for the paper discussing the eroding Louisiana coastline. She was busy taking it apart, line by line, trying to discern if her arguments for coastal restoration sounded convincing. She couldn’t find anything wrong with it, it was perfectly acceptable. It wasn’t the article. Something else was gnawing at her, eating her up, distracting her.
KK leaned back in her chair and glanced out the window behind her desk, hoping the view of the Mississippi, with the giant barges and steamships meandering by on the river, would bring her some sense of relief. But it wasn’t working today. The sky was overcast and dreary, the thick white clouds blanketing the sun that was struggling to let in the day.