"It's about time!" my muse says when she sees me sitting at the kitchen table typing away at my lap top.
"Hmmmm...." I mumble, still fixated on the screen.
She picks up my Wonder Woman coffee cup. "You're writing again."
"Trying to..." My voice shows how annoyed I'm feeling, but as usual she doesn't seem to care.
"Your coffee's cold." She takes a sip. "And you didn't put enough cream in it. You know I like a lot of milk in my coffee."
I stop typing and look at her. "Who's coffee?"
"You need a warm up." She crosses the room to the black and gray pot half filled with dark, strong coffee and pours some into my mug. Then she opens the carton of milk I left on the counter and fills the mug to the rim. Sipping, she sighs. "Perfect."
"Who's coffee?" I ask again.
Sitting at the table beside me, she drinks deeply and then nods at my lap top. "What are you working on?"
"The kids book."
"Good. I'm very excited about this project. It's a great subject."
"I'm glad you approve."
"I do. And then what?"
"Once this is done I need to finish editing the new manuscript for the press."
"Wonderful! And then?"
"I finish my play."
"Excellent. I can't wait to read it. And after that?"
"I finish my coffee." I take the mug out of her hands and hold it tightly.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Touchy."
"Did you need something?"
"Just seeing what you're doing."
"I'm writing. Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
"Yes. But I'm making certain you're really writing and not just commenting on Facebook."
"Facebook can be very stimulating."
"True, but it's not writing." She taps my laptop. "This is." Rising from her seat she smiles at me. "Carry on."
I set my mug on the table and start typing again, but I've lost my train of thought so I have to pause for a moment. Reaching for my mug, I realize it's gone.
Bitch
"Hmmmm...." I mumble, still fixated on the screen.
She picks up my Wonder Woman coffee cup. "You're writing again."
"Trying to..." My voice shows how annoyed I'm feeling, but as usual she doesn't seem to care.
"Your coffee's cold." She takes a sip. "And you didn't put enough cream in it. You know I like a lot of milk in my coffee."
I stop typing and look at her. "Who's coffee?"
"You need a warm up." She crosses the room to the black and gray pot half filled with dark, strong coffee and pours some into my mug. Then she opens the carton of milk I left on the counter and fills the mug to the rim. Sipping, she sighs. "Perfect."
"Who's coffee?" I ask again.
Sitting at the table beside me, she drinks deeply and then nods at my lap top. "What are you working on?"
"The kids book."
"Good. I'm very excited about this project. It's a great subject."
"I'm glad you approve."
"I do. And then what?"
"Once this is done I need to finish editing the new manuscript for the press."
"Wonderful! And then?"
"I finish my play."
"Excellent. I can't wait to read it. And after that?"
"I finish my coffee." I take the mug out of her hands and hold it tightly.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Touchy."
"Did you need something?"
"Just seeing what you're doing."
"I'm writing. Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
"Yes. But I'm making certain you're really writing and not just commenting on Facebook."
"Facebook can be very stimulating."
"True, but it's not writing." She taps my laptop. "This is." Rising from her seat she smiles at me. "Carry on."
I set my mug on the table and start typing again, but I've lost my train of thought so I have to pause for a moment. Reaching for my mug, I realize it's gone.
Bitch
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