Twenty oneIn the town of Glory, Shelby, having ordered Josh to call what remained of the town council to a meeting, stood in front of his bedroom window, gazing down to the street. The clasp rattled as the wind came rolling between the wooden slatted buildings, snowdrifts gathering beneath the boardwalks. Despite the cold he remained bare-chested, quietly smoking a thin cheroot, deep in thought.
Behind him, still in the bed, Stella moaned, yawned and stretched. She took a few moments, smacking her lips, yawning again before she mumbled, “What time is it?”
“Almost noon,” replied Shelby, looking at her over his shoulder. He chuckled. “You've missed the best part of the day. The morning.”
“I know a lot about mornings,” she said and swung her legs from out of the covers and sat on the edge
