Issue 51 - Plenty more fish in the sea
By now his eyes felt tired and it was getting hard to concentrate on figures. He dropped the pencil, pushed all the papers back and rubbed his face with his open palms. He told himself, as several times before, that he could never hope to finish the work before he went home. Now it just seemed more certain and he knew he had been silly to try and impress with his promises. He had half-realised some time ago that the steady soft patter on the slates was fading away and now the rain must have stopped.
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