Member-only story
The Cost of Brevity
Oh, do you keep your muses close?
“Nat, we need to talk.”
I sighed softly and pulled off my glasses before I let my chair wheel back until I faced my not-unexpected guest. “Hello, Cleo. What can I do for you? I have a busy day ahead — ”
Cleo stared back at me, her arms folded over her chest and her pink lips drawn into a pout. “Not here,” she said, glancing around my office as if it were a den of sin that brought her shame. “Can we go talk in the kitchen or something?”
“How about the balcony?” I asked, gesturing to the sliding glass doors. “We’re supposed to have lovely weather. Nice to get out of that cold spell we had, right?”
Cleo still didn’t look happy, but she didn’t fight me on it. “Fine,” she snapped like a child. I stood and led the way out the doors. My planters, left over from the summer, were sad little pots that I’d hopefully get a chance to tend to once the last bit of winter broke away. If I got past my next deadline unscathed, then I might have a break before Easter. I couldn’t help looking forward to it after the grueling last few months with this novel.
When I turned to face Cleo, she was staring at me with a sulky expression. I couldn’t help biting back a sigh. Even without her saying a word, I had some thought to the contents of what this…
