Page 96 of His Reckoning
I can’t believe I just said those words out loud. Sometimes, my mouth gets me into trouble.
He smirks. “That seems like a positive development.”
“It’s suspicious.”
Sawyer sets the mug down, then walks casually across the living room toward the hallway.
My eyes track him automatically. The moment he passes the couch, my brain suddenly produces another line of dialogue for the scene I was writing.
I grab the laptop again.
He leans closer, his voice low as he …
The words spill out like they’ve been waiting for permission all morning.
The characters are suddenly cooperating instead of staring blankly at each other like they were earlier.
Sawyer stops halfway down the hall. “You’re typing again.”
I don’t look up. “I refuse to discuss it.”
“That seems wise.”
“You’re not part of this.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“That’s the problem.”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching me. I absolutely do not acknowledge him.
The cursor flies across the screen as I write more dialogue, tension … more words.
“Interesting,” Sawyer says quietly.
I stop typing and slowly look up. “What?”
“You write faster when I’m in the room.”
“That’s coincidence.”
“How much have you written today?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Seems it does.”
I glare at him. “You are not the source of my creativity.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You implied it.”
Sawyer pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen. “I forgot the file I came for.”
I point toward the hallway. “Then go forget it somewhere else.”
He disappears into his office. The door closes, and the apartment goes quiet again.
