Sprung

Miss Etta must have thought she'd finally cracked it. Months of patience paid off. She'd waited until the killjoy was busy elsewhere, snuck into the living room, made a leap for the sideboard and finally - finally - the planets fell into alignment. She had the time, opportunity and claw length necessary for some serious ikebana.

Good thing too, that there were lilies in the vase. Palest pink petals, just in full bloom, vivid orange centres.

Her bad luck though, to bounce into the office apres-shred, all squeaky and filled with lily-killer joy.

That thick stripe of orange lily pollen running from the tips of her ears, down her nose and curling round her mouth?

Sprung. Sprung badly.