"I left the last page with some haste," he said
breathlessly. "The words were spilling over the
edge and threatening sloppiness. I had to
get out while I could. You understand, right?"
No one understood. In fact, they were
shamed by his floundering and panic. He knew
the risk behind each word he wrote down.
He knew their implications, repercussions, and all other
"ion's." It's a hairy business, when you don't plan ahead.
But he was different, so he though. Things
were different these days. Not the case, they
warned him. "I can go back," he told them
wiping the sweat from his brow.
"I can fix it. The words are already there. I can just fix them."