It's November, and NaNoWriMo has begun. I am typing yet another chapter of my memoir.
"It's pretty good," a voice behind me says. I jump, and turn.
Elene stands behind me, staring intently at the computer.
"It isn't done," I answer stiffly. We haven't really taked since the Incident, so of course it's a wee bit uncomfortable!
"Yeah, I know that. But it seriously is really good!"
That was a couple of hours ago, but I still wonder-did she really mean it? Words flow out of me subconciously, and it has become an escape from the day. I don't know if Elene is corrupting me or what, but I have grown to like this thing.
"It's pretty good," a voice behind me says. I jump, and turn.
Elene stands behind me, staring intently at the computer.
"It isn't done," I answer stiffly. We haven't really taked since the Incident, so of course it's a wee bit uncomfortable!
"Yeah, I know that. But it seriously is really good!"
That was a couple of hours ago, but I still wonder-did she really mean it? Words flow out of me subconciously, and it has become an escape from the day. I don't know if Elene is corrupting me or what, but I have grown to like this thing.
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