Shut up and write the book.”
“Fine,” I relent.
“Fine.” She sighs.
“Throw in a cowboy.” “No.” “A horse, at least?” “Do you want a honky tonk too? Maybe some yee-haws, hey y’alls, and cow tipping for sport? Oh! I know! Moonlight dancing to the sound of crickets in an empty field.”
“Now you’re talking.” She ignores my sarcasm and laughs. “You have ninety days.”
“I’ll have to you in thirty.”
— Mar 03, 2025 07:52PM
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