right hand pointing

Catherine B. Krause

Unbeknownst to me, you never left my side. You are so hot and cool and interesting; I want to write your book, new friend. The cameras, the mysterious fan letters, the music, they passed from an awkward adolescence to an even more awkward adulthood. So many days, months and years of effort, and so little time to throw it out. My neurotransmitters are firing blanks. People are too slow; after all, no one can see me in here. There's no way that they can stop it. Something about me is good at something.