I walked over to my desk after a long weekend to find a cup full of used and abused staple parts.
“Michael,” I whispered, covering my face with both hands.
His stuffed penguins were scattered all over the desk and my new lotion bottle was over half gone. Most of it slathered on important documents.
“Dash! How did Michael get into my office?” I hollered toward the kitchen.
My husband walked in and shrugged, “He is wild lately. Crazy Eights.”
“Well, Crazy Eights is about to lose me a contract!”
Michael peeked in and gave me that irresistible grin. Dang.
Word Count: 100