Afterwards, all they talked about was how ordinary she had been.
She’d come to work at eight on the dot. She baked cakes for birthdays. She smiled and knew everybody’s name. Her desk was covered in little plush penguins – there was a new one every week.
The only odd thing was those very long vacations she took.
So when the news came in that she’d died in action, defusing a nuclear bomb while under attack by domestic terrorists on a stolen bomber over New York City, everyone was a little surprised.
They’d miss her cakes, her smiles, and her penguins.
Word Count: 100
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Claire Sheldon for providing the prompt photo!