Claire Keegan Reads “So Late in the Day”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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The Boss Said, I'm Just Finishing the Outline Now, Carl Said, Thanks.
Cahal sat down at his desk and opened a file he'd saved. He was about to make some changes when the boss stopped by. The boss, almost ten years younger than him, wore designers suits and played squash on week ends. When he looked back out the window, the sky was blank and blue. Cahal took a sip of the bitter coffee and stared again at the file he hadn't saved.
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