It was awful. The shred of paper sitting sullenly before him; It was truly, god awful.
But since he was used to such torture each and every work day, it was nothing new.
New; new would be crème moccasins she wore. New would be her sunny smile and flower girl scent. New was the fact that he fancied yet another intern. New? New, because this one wasn’t a shadow of the wife that died on him.