Angelia carefully loosened the  typewriter arms, detangling them and signing penance for typing too fast.

She could almost hear Little Moe lecture her about just downloading her story.

“But manually typing slows me down and makes me think. If I just download, I might as well be a director instead of an author.”

She straightened.

“And now I’m talking to myself.”

A small self-depreciating smile carried her to the kitchen. Iced Lady Gray tea? No, something yellow or blue-green. 

With cup in hand, she sipped her tea staring at the typewriter like the keys were fallen comrades scattered on the battle field.

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