Friday Fictioneers: The Count’s Collection
“Another lamp trader in town, you say?”
“Yes, m’lord,” answered a sorrowful Horace. “Shall I arrange for the purchase, m’lord?”
“Yes. Take all of it. Immediately.”
“Yes, m’lord.” If only a hundred lamps could burn through this charade. Ever the loyal servant, Horace couldn’t bring himself to tell the count that all the light on earth would never replace the sun that was his countess.