She lay on the bed, panting. Her long black hair, normally so full of life, lay limp at her side. When I touched her, she opened one eye at me, her mouth cracking into a smile.
"I thought you'd abandoned me again," she said.
"I could never do that," I replied. "Other stuff just got in the way."
"Other stuff always seems to get in the way." There was no mistaking the venom in her voice.
Hanging my head, I knew she was right. I promised myself I'd get to 30,000 words before my work project kicked off in earnest, and I'd only gotten to 25,000. I could've made it if I'd focused on the novel those last couple of days, but I was content to piddle around, convinced I had enough time.
Taking a deep breath, I said, "You're right, but there's nothing I can do about that anymore. It's in the past. All we can do now is move forward. Tell me, can David bring down one of the alien ships with his napalm missile?"
Her eyes were closed again, and it took a second or five before she answered. I was about to give up when she finally said, "It can make a great distraction, but given that these creatures came halfway across the universe to exterminate mankind, do you really think a model rocket with some homemade napalm can really do anything?"
"I know it's a stretch, but something's got to give. David has to start building the global resistance network, and no one will follow him if he doesn't have success."
"You seem to think his success has to come from a stand up fight," she sighed. "Use some subterfuge. David's missile can cause the enemy to wobble, but the real purpose has to be to get them to land. Once that happens, then you can spring the trap."
I grinned, swiveled my chair, and opened my laptop. What she said made sense, so I plugged away for a few minutes. When I looked back over my shoulder, she was sitting up, her hands resting at her side. Not long after I turned back to the computer, she was up and standing next to me. Her hand trembled on my shoulder, but it gave me strength. I wrote.
"I thought you'd abandoned me again," she said.
"I could never do that," I replied. "Other stuff just got in the way."
"Other stuff always seems to get in the way." There was no mistaking the venom in her voice.
Hanging my head, I knew she was right. I promised myself I'd get to 30,000 words before my work project kicked off in earnest, and I'd only gotten to 25,000. I could've made it if I'd focused on the novel those last couple of days, but I was content to piddle around, convinced I had enough time.
Taking a deep breath, I said, "You're right, but there's nothing I can do about that anymore. It's in the past. All we can do now is move forward. Tell me, can David bring down one of the alien ships with his napalm missile?"
Her eyes were closed again, and it took a second or five before she answered. I was about to give up when she finally said, "It can make a great distraction, but given that these creatures came halfway across the universe to exterminate mankind, do you really think a model rocket with some homemade napalm can really do anything?"
"I know it's a stretch, but something's got to give. David has to start building the global resistance network, and no one will follow him if he doesn't have success."
"You seem to think his success has to come from a stand up fight," she sighed. "Use some subterfuge. David's missile can cause the enemy to wobble, but the real purpose has to be to get them to land. Once that happens, then you can spring the trap."
I grinned, swiveled my chair, and opened my laptop. What she said made sense, so I plugged away for a few minutes. When I looked back over my shoulder, she was sitting up, her hands resting at her side. Not long after I turned back to the computer, she was up and standing next to me. Her hand trembled on my shoulder, but it gave me strength. I wrote.
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