The Writer


I didn’t see him come in, but I felt it. There was a stillness in the room, the kind that happens with fresh meat in shark-filled waters. No doubt everyone was sizing the newbie up, taking in his age and build, worrying whether they would be kicked one rung lower.

A chuckle bubbled in my throat. When I had first arrived, the rest of the group had barely looked at me, thinking a girl couldn’t be any competition. Ha. Nothing feels better than showing up a group of sexists with a metaphorical and literal kick in the ass. Now they still didn’t pay attention to me, but it wasn’t because I was worthless. The opposite: I was out of their league.

Вы читаете отрывок, зарегистрируйтесь, чтобы читать полное издание.