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"After I put in this other word beside it. There-enigma, exigency.
You know, I've worked on these for ten years and this is the first
one I've wanted to finish? Never do it again though, I guess-would
spoil this first taste of success. Well, time to put away the 01' cash
box. G'night-and thanks for the help."

Mr. Griswold, a curiosity to the PBX girl, walked briskly toward
the door, aimed and threw a crumbled piece of paper at the basket,
smiled as it went in, and was probably still smiling as he closed the
door behind him. Later, at 5:00, when the switchboard operator ap-
proached that same door, she noticed the bold red letters on a piece
of scrap paper in the wastebasket. "Starting Today-$5,000 in CASH
Prizes for News' Famous Crossword Puzzle Game!" Above the ad was
a crossword puzzle, neatly filled in with penciled words,-except for
number twenty-seven down-in bright blue ink, spelling out 'enigma:

III. The Dream

In the night I hear the music
Sweet sounds rise to meet my ears
Notes of sighs and notes of gladness
Bring the long supressed tears.

Through the blackness wafts the music
Haunting bars of lost refrains
Love and laughter for a second
Mingling with forgotten strains.

Amid the heavy dark caresses
Of the sounds of sweet forlorn
Looms the pain of coming daytime
Pleasures flee with dawning morn.

So I lie in slumbering darkness
Listening in the morning shade
Waiting here in quiet abandon
While the soulful memories fade.

CONNIE SHANKLE

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