Your four lines of prose this week shall be based around: up for auction.
Was back in the sauna for two hours of training this afternoon. Had a bit of trouble paying attention.
The auction house was brimming with nervous excitement and outlandish rumours as the final item up for bidding was wheeled onto the stage beneath a purple velvet drape. The six employees manning the cart, three of them pushing and three of them pulling, were red-faced and out of breath by the time they managed to bring it to its place in the spotlight.
The auctioneer stood at the podium with a relaxed smile and surveyed the eager men and women who so desperately awaited the unveiling of the object he had struggled to keep secret for the past six months.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into his microphone, “I am pleased to present, at long last, the pièce de résistance of the late Monsieur Edward Teller’s estate: the first prototype of the hydrogen bomb!”