Oh dear. No help for it then. Time to clean. Open the window, get out the broom and the dust cloth. Unfortunately the magic that I wield doesn’t lend itself to sweeping.
I’ll have to work on that.
So, to start, I think I’ll shift these notes over . . . what’s this? Under all these papers?
A pair of worn red leather gloves.
Oh, I remember her. A mercenary, with a sword for a heart. Bold and sassy that one, who faced destiny certain. Oh my, now that I think about it, they . . .
Cleaning is overrated. Let me turn the computer back on, and get some more kavage.
For I have another story to tell.