From the Editor's Diary......
My head was bent down, my fingers were holding a pencil and the pencil, trying to scribble out my story. But the fatal cold was numbing my fingers.
I was thinking 'bout my love. The warm summer we spent together.
Ten minutes before, when I'd looked at the clouds, they were damp gray, but now they were white. I was still wondering the synonym of 'exploit' when I realized that my desk was illuminated in several rectangular blocks.
When I looked out, the sun was up. The black iron fender was cutting its light into numerous halves.
The sun was incomplete. My story was incomplete......
My head was bent down, my fingers were holding a pencil and the pencil, trying to scribble out my story. But the fatal cold was numbing my fingers.
I was thinking 'bout my love. The warm summer we spent together.
Ten minutes before, when I'd looked at the clouds, they were damp gray, but now they were white. I was still wondering the synonym of 'exploit' when I realized that my desk was illuminated in several rectangular blocks.
When I looked out, the sun was up. The black iron fender was cutting its light into numerous halves.
The sun was incomplete. My story was incomplete......
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Have you really written it yourself??
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