Marissa stirred her latte and rued the fact that her mother still couldn't use the word "myriad" properly in her discourse. Especially today.
Major Daniels could have understood meeting his demise with hot steel--shot in the chest during a hopeless-but-noble charge--or cold steel--at the end of a bout of cunning swordsmanship--but he had never imagined lukewarm steel. Yet there he lay dying, having been kicked in the head by his trusty steed, Daisy.