30.01

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"The words come like little bon mots of witticisms and the only thing worth keeping are when you describe your foibles.

So you hide them as best you can in artificially-lit towns of meta-candor, incomplete characterizations, and all the while your heart is bleeding on the page because you bore it true - and hope that someone was moved by your admission."

'Um, that was a little heavy handed,' thought Alice, as she dropped the mecha-quill.

The freshly painted words fell from the air quietly and floated back into the small slot.  The small brown serif caps from the capital letters gently cascaded to the carpet.

'I know, I love the movie-guy voice,' thought Alice, as she picked up the quill.

"In a world, where even your simplest whims make reality, one woman would craft a breath-taking armada of two-dimensional characters and little in the way of character development."

As she spoke, words appeared in gossamer blues and greens, hanging on her every utterance.

'No!' thought Alice as she paced through the hanging syllables; snagged on her sweater, they followed her as she paced the hotel room.

On the third pass the floating letters gently drifted back into the pen.  Another small brown serif cap floated quiet onto the carpet.


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