Tap, tap, tap, tap it goes. The white square keys cheeped against her drumming fingers. The alphabet is stamped onto the keys in a sequence order different from the Alphabet song everyone learns at age one. Tap, there goes a letter popping onto a screen. The same one her finger pressed on. Numbers ...
Tap, tap. Its head hammered against the opened bound leaves of the unlined pages. Jetstream says the tattoo on its black slender plastic body. It’s dressed in rubber bottoms, stiff against the trembling hands of the unskilled writer at the ready for action. But the writer wasn’t ready. She’d spun ...