(no subject)
So the man/kid inside me asks. How long have you been making that draft? I answer with general disregard for the topic, "I've been making this draft for twenty-five years." The conversation clearly takes a dip in this part and the man/kid looks at me with a critical eyes and stops in his track. We were walking of course but this time he really stops in his track, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. But there were eight other emotions thrown in the mix and I'm pretty sure I spotted disgust. I continue walking with 'I don't need this shit look on my face'. The man/kid still doesn't move, I pace him and now I'm several blocks away. I can still hear him screaming at me without making a sound.
A pittance and then there was nothing else. We've made this draft. Time to make the final copy, I received a deathline notice and now the publishers are angry.
A pittance and then there was nothing else. We've made this draft. Time to make the final copy, I received a deathline notice and now the publishers are angry.