The Proofreader

“It’s like the energy’s gone,” she said, “Sucked out. Now it’s just mechanical. You’ve made it a chore and because of that, you’ve lost that little light that was only yours.”

He let the stack of paper flip past this thumb. The paper’s edges rough at some places. That voice was only going to get louder, he knew. She’d been moving to front for the last few weeks, just as he was getting ready to submit his manuscript.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she said looking around the room. “Did you quit drinking? You did. That’s it.”

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