The Pebblewick Chronicles - Chapter 4 - Thursday
Thursday Morning The First Fine Day The coffee mug knew things. For years it had sat upon the counter of The Salty Page, observing the steady procession of visitors, residents, tourists and eccentrics who drifted through its doors. It had witnessed celebrations, arguments, discoveries, romances and one memorable occasion involving a seagull and a volume of Victorian poetry. The mug never judged. It simply watched. At that particular moment, it sat beside the till beneath a warm lamp. Its contents had once been coffee. More importantly, they had once been hot. Both conditions had expired some time ago. I had opened the shop at nine o'clock sharp and, despite the promising start, already seemed destined to lose another battle against my morning coffee. For the first time in three days, however, Pebblewick had awakened beneath clear skies. The rain had finally gone. After seventy-two hours of drizzle, mist, downpours and general atmospheric hostility, the c...