Sixty. It blinked. It read. It said sixty. Sure there were notes of things to fix, but it would take an hour tops. Those sixty pages. I looked up, bags under my eyes. I grimaced. “I can do it.”
My lips were swollen and chapped, parched from the endurance required. I smacked my lips and went, “I will defeat you. I will defeat the giant in front of me!”
In my moment of resignation, when I would allow it to wait until tomorrow, a friend walked up beside me, stalwart. His chest puffed, his standard was still untouched, and he didn’t even look at me when he said, “I’m about to edit.” Then he looked down, reached out, and said, “Come with me. Join me on this quest. The world will not wait for our stories.”
To hell with it, I thought. To hell with sleep! I took his hand. I stood up. I went after those final sixty pages!
Ugh…so so close. Yet it feels so far away. Will be in to the publisher tomorrow, though. And then I will wash my hands of it.
...like butta' on your toast!
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