TWW FIC: Auld Acquaintance
Title: Auld Acquaintance
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Sam & Mallory (Sam-centric)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn’t told anyone.
Author's Note: Approximate timeline: Holy Night. 215 words. Thank you so much to my beta, the talented magisterequitum. For tidbit2008. Happy belated holidays! Feedback and concrit is love.
Sunbeams warmed the back of Sam’s neck as he opened his front door, a stack of mail in his hand. A shiny foil sticker drew his attention, and he stared at the name printed on the return address label.
He opened the envelope to find a whimsical snowman smiling at him from the front of a card. Inside, Mallory’s name followed a short note: Can’t wait to have you back. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Guilt flooded his chest as he sank onto the couch, the card still open in his lap. He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn’t told anyone. For the past two weeks, he’d searched for the nerve. After he'd secured the position at the new firm--his post-election lifeboat--he’d called his landlord in Washington, his utility company, the post office, but every attempt to dial the White House switchboard had ended with a slam of the phone.
On the coffee table, his new key fob lay beside copies of his new apartment lease. He closed Mallory’s card and set it on top of the day’s newspaper.
He stood and headed toward the window. With his hands in his pockets, he bypassed the phone and, disappointed in himself, turned his face to the clear California sky.
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Sam & Mallory (Sam-centric)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn’t told anyone.
Author's Note: Approximate timeline: Holy Night. 215 words. Thank you so much to my beta, the talented magisterequitum. For tidbit2008. Happy belated holidays! Feedback and concrit is love.
Sunbeams warmed the back of Sam’s neck as he opened his front door, a stack of mail in his hand. A shiny foil sticker drew his attention, and he stared at the name printed on the return address label.
He opened the envelope to find a whimsical snowman smiling at him from the front of a card. Inside, Mallory’s name followed a short note: Can’t wait to have you back. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Guilt flooded his chest as he sank onto the couch, the card still open in his lap. He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn’t told anyone. For the past two weeks, he’d searched for the nerve. After he'd secured the position at the new firm--his post-election lifeboat--he’d called his landlord in Washington, his utility company, the post office, but every attempt to dial the White House switchboard had ended with a slam of the phone.
On the coffee table, his new key fob lay beside copies of his new apartment lease. He closed Mallory’s card and set it on top of the day’s newspaper.
He stood and headed toward the window. With his hands in his pockets, he bypassed the phone and, disappointed in himself, turned his face to the clear California sky.