The Knight Before Christmas
By Drew Hunt
“We’re closed!” Harry Pettit shouted, although his words were drowned out by Rodolfo singing to Mimi of his life as a poet. Listening to La Bohème was Harry’s only concession to it being Christmas Eve. That and three large glasses of mulled wine.
In a quieter passage Harry heard the knocking again. “Can’t you read? The sign says closed until the twenty-seventh!” Who the hell needs a box of screws or a hammer on Christmas Eve? But the knocking at the door to the hardware shop continued.
Harry threw down his pen in disgust. No matter how long he stared at his accounts, he couldn’t make the things balance. And he didn’t think the mulled wine had anything to do with it. Give him a set of blueprints or even a rough sketch and he could instantly see w
