Was our last continuation prompt really in November? That seems too long ago. Let us correct that.
Carry on the story from wherever the previous writer stopped. Run with it for a little while and then try to give the next writer something to work with.
Work at the bakery went well this morning. Sleep deprivation is kinda kicking my ass right now though. Had to have a little nap after lunch before going out to the garden to transplant our broccoli, cabbage, and onions.
Pretty sure I'm about to fall asleep again. So I should get to this prompt pretty quick, huh?
Edit: not quickly enough, it would seem.
It was a cold day for April in that part of the world. An icy wind was blowing from the north, forcing folks indoors as it wound its way along the city's streets. It scattered newspapers this way and that and pushed empty playground swings, setting their chains to squeaking as though they were haunted by the children who had sat upon them only the day before.
In an apartment in the very heart of the city a man stood, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for a visitor to arrive. The visitor was technically late but that was expected, which left the man wondering if that still qualified as being actually late.
The rooms were sparsely decorated and spotlessly clean, giving the impression that the man had not lived there long - or lived there at all. This was not the case, however. He simply harbored an intense desire for cleanliness and therefore maintained a cleaning regime that even Mr. Clean might suggest was excessive.
A knock came and the man turned, not toward the entrance which led to the hallway, but to the glass door that opened onto his tiny balcony. He did not seem surprised as he moved to answer it, despite the fact that his apartment was on the twenty-third floor.