Next up is Mouse Tourmaline with a little ribbing aimed our ourselves.
My only true masterpiece. Fifty-five careful, eloquent words. Laying the page on the table, I waited for his praise.
“Fifty-six.”
“…What?”
“You’ve made a mistake. That word’s hyphenated.” A smile. “Better luck next time.”
The crimson droplets look misplaced, scattered on my manuscript. But at least nobody will ever again threaten its perfection.
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