She burst through the door with the poise and grace of a wounded chicken taking flight. The sound of her elbow clipping the edge of the door frame reverberated through the paper-thin walls as she stumbled into the kitchen, her head bobbing listlessly to one side. Her arms wildly searched the cabinet doors, until she flung open the third set from the left, and then stopped. All this time, the man on the other side of the kitchen / living room never looked up from his typewriter as he sat on the couch, furiously clacking away at the old metal keys filling the room with an incessant sound of industry. Continue reading “Magic Typewriter I”
Magic Typewriter I
