Singing the Body Electric

Six Sentence Sunday: Post six sentences from whatever you're working on, if you're game! Folks who don't want to make their own posts are very welcome to share their snippets here.

Most of my writing this month has been for my OFMD Big Bang fic, and that will probably be the case from now until October. I can't share anything from that publicly, since it needs to be anonymous for artist claims, but I'm dipping in and out of some smaller projects in the meantime to keep from getting highway hypnosis.

From a fic with the working title of "Coffee Run" (Our Flag Means Death, OC + All Deck on Hands, Modern AU):

Obviously the café was a money laundering thing. She had done the napkin math on one of the many slow days the job offered, and the numbers just didn't add up otherwise.

On the one hand, sure, this part of the industrial district still had more actual warehouses than luxury lofts, so the rent was probably cheap. The café didn't open until most of the day shift had already clocked in, but it got its share of regulars and one-offs from the delivery driver set and the residents of a couple of nearby walk-ups.

On the other hand, those sales barely added up to her own rent some months. Instead, all the real money came from the standing lunchtime catering orders—carafes of coffee and tea, sandwich platters, tureens of soup—that were allegedly prepared after she closed each afternoon and were just as allegedly picked up before she reopened in the morning.