Sandalwood, Coffee and Angels

Sara

Eiric picked up his head and stopped typing when Sara came in the room.

Earlier he had a recollection of hearing her moving in the kitchen and had smelled coffee brewing.  To Eiric, just the smell of coffee seemed almost as effective as drinking it.

Even though most writers had long since abandoned keyboards in favor of touch-screens, holographic keyboards and voice recognition, Eiric still liked the rhythmic clicking and the gliding hand movements that came with the use of a keyboard—and his old fashioned cordless mouse.  In another life he fancied himself a gifted piano player.  If he could have found a reliable Smith-Corona word processor typewriter he would probably have used one of those—but they were scarce—he saw one once in a museum—but still keeps his eye open for one at the Salvation Army.

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