A Horse Without a Rider
The coffee had long since gone cold by the time Eleanor lifted it to her lips and took the first sip. She grimaced as she returned the oversized cup to the oversized saucer, only partly from the unpalatable taste of the contents. The largest part of her discomfort came instead from the fact that she had reached the final page of the job listings in the last of the papers spread across the table before her for what was probably the fifth time that morning and the result was still that she had found nothing that was even remotely worth pursuing. ...