by James A. Miller
My time as Head Baker aboard Station Imperion has been enjoyable, so it is with heavy heart, I resign.
These are good! Probably the best Christmas cookies I’ve ever made.
December 21st, 2057 will be my final day. I leave the kitchen in the capable hands of Nicol Truefsky. His work as apprentice over the past two years is commendable.
Maybe just one more. So sweet and light, must be the Glutovian flour–wherever did Nicol find it?
While, in my option, Nicol lacks the prerequisite education to be Head Baker, his experience will allow him to temporarily fill the position until a suitable replacement is found.
I just can’t stop eating these. Down you go little gingerbread man. I can catch you, yes I can. And your brother and your cousin…
I finished them. Need more.
As Edwin rose from the chair, Glutovian microbes hidden in the cookies’ flour reached their saturation point and instantly collapsed his ample body into a pile of fine white powder. Nicol entered moments later, sweeping what was left of his boss into flour sacks.
He edited Edwin’s resignation—ever so slightly—before hitting “send.”
During the day, James A. Miller works as an Electrical Engineer in Madison WI. At night, he spends time with his family and does his best to come up with fun and creative fiction. He is a first reader for Allegory e-zine and member of the Codex writer’s group. He also has two cats but will resist the urge to say anything cute or witty about them here. He blogs at https://breakingintothecraft.wordpress.com/.
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