My calves are sore because I've been writing on the edge of my seat, perched like a hungry brid. I was about hovering at 700 or so words in at 8pm, when I talked to Meg briefly. When I finished talking to her, all the tumblers fell into place. I had at least five scenes to write. It was a flurry of madness and giggling, as I began to remember
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I mean... yeah, that's a good job too. Way to go and stuff, I guess.
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