The Quill and the Keyboard
It had to be now.
Picking up the creased, worn page, she unfolded it with great care.
The lines, though familiar, still took her breath away. The sharp angle, the dark letters, endorsed a meticulously honed skill. The intimate, flamboyant writing, opened a door to the author’s psyche.
It was time to let go. She had to sever the past — break the nib, overturn the ink.
She must cut off this emotional bond, to face the impassive future. Clenching her fist, she watched the paper crumble against the weight of her hand. With a muted farewell, she let the bits fall.
She turned around.
The metal monster was waiting with its jaws open. With a deep breath, she booted it to life. Tapping away furiously, she entered the cyber minefield.
Given below is the link to the WE magazine for access to the published version: