A word from Typist:
The muses, bored in our dark hotel room, have gone off in search of coffee.
Speaking of coffee… our bone marrow spurring shots have undoubtedly kicked off some action… imagine mini firework explosions in your spine and rib cage. It is unlike anything I have ever felt before.
Oh! The coffee metaphor… At home, my beloved silver percolator rests, undoubtedly enjoying it’s vacation. I can hear it’s daily ‘whoosh, whoosh, whoosh’ in my mind’s ear and I link the sound to what’s happening in my bones — whoosh, whoosh, whoosh — white blood cells adding flavor to my watery blood.
“Has she been drinking?” Calliope whispered.
“Only water,” Nia looked at her watch. “It’s seven thirty in the morning… six thirty at home.”
“She’s a writer,” Thalia grinned. “Quirky and whimsical is… endearing? At least we hope our readers think so!”
Another word from Typist:
Please bear with us… It has been an unusual week to say the least.
Now I’m going to get dressed and see if I can track down a creamy cup of brew. Apparently the muses forgot to bring money with them. 😂 And they are invisible?