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The Cartoonist

In by Wyatt on October 18, 2010 at 9:36 pm

Jerry sat at his lightdesk staring at the blank panels. His dark room was a dystopic museum display of starbucks cups and half-eaten mcmuffins in delicately congealing paper, all exhibited proudly atop piles of books, broken VHS tapes and unread newspapers. Yesterday’s cheerily smiling and caustic-witted line drawings had kept him awake and alive but now all he could think of was Her, and how She was on the other coast right now, and wasn’t going to be back for a very very long while. He picked up his ink pen and scribbled an easy triplet. She would have laughed.


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