Inward-Facing Writers Posts

I tapped Snooze on my phone and rolled over.  For the next nine minutes, I endeavored to erase the lyrics “And I’m not proud of my address, da da da, no post code envy” from my melon.  Sorry, Lorde #muchrespect, but sometimes I need my melon for other things.

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Fictoir

They arrived mid-summer.

With fruit.

No, not carrying a fruit basket, or even a bunch of bananas.  They were somewhere on the fruit.  In the fruit. Honestly, I have no idea how the heck they got in.  But sometime in July they did, and they were still here a week and a few days into October.

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Fictoir