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December 21, 2006

12.21.06

I'm late! I'm late for a very important date. No time to say hello/goodbye. I'm late!

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Jeff R.: From the Vault

Patrick O'Day, sportswriter for the Globe, was always borrowing from the rest of the staff. He was good for it; always paid in full on payday.

Which was today. At lunchtime, we all gathered around and compared IOUs. Jenny in features was owed $55, I had paper for $25, Jon and James, point-counterpoint columnists, each had $20 coming, and Liu, the intern, expected $8. Patrick arrived and emptied his wallet. As we counted the $127, Patrick quietly passed away from a heart attack.

At least I didn't have to work hard titling the obituary.

"O'Day: late, and a dollar short."

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Jim: The Call

Rinnng!

“John?”

“Hi, Peggy!”

“John, I need to let you know that I’m late.”

“Late? As in late late?”

“Well, d-uh!”

“Oh my god! Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Geez, Peg. What can I do?”

“What can you do? Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?”

“But I still feel like there’s something I should do. This has never happened to me before.”

“To you? Hey, I’m the one who’s late! This doesn’t make me feel very good, you know.”

“So…how late are you?”

“About a half hour.”

“Cool. We’ll still be on time for our dinner reservation!”

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Michele: The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

The screen door banged shut. Sheryl glanced up from her solitaire game and saw Evan standing in the doorway as if he had just come in from having a cigarette.

Technically, he did. Too bad that cigarette was smoked four years ago.

“I’m back.”
“That was the world’s longest smoke break, Evan. Where ya been?”
“I dunno. Texas. Jail. Places.”
“You look old.”
“Life without you was hard.”
“Your choice.”
“I suppose.”
“We were supposed to go the movies that night, remember?”
“I’m sure we can still catch one.”
“We’re kinda late.”
“Well, better late than....”
“I’ll grab my jacket.”

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