“Call me Harry,” she said, “Harriet’s a bit much.” She shook my hand with vigor and entered the hall. She glanced around the entryway admiringly, handed me her fedora, and removed a top coat to reveal a man’s tweed suit. She wore men’s shoes, too.
“Mr. Hemingway is back here,” I said, thinking that Mr. Hemingway wouldn’t be as charmed by dear Harry as he’d expected. “Follow me, please.” I led the way.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Harriet.”