(no subject)
If there's a bright center to the universe, Milliways is more than likely close to it. In front of the observation windows, gazing at the explosions is a writer plying her craft. For once, it seems as if she might be not writing an essay. Scary, if you think about it. On the paper in front of her are a couple verses, a couple more papers scattered about with notes and scribbles, and rhymes and scansion. Perhaps eventually she'll realize that she's hungry.