back at it…

“Thanks for making lasagne yesterday,” said Calliope.

“You’re welcome… thought you might have worked up a hearty appetite after yesterday’s sign toting,” Typist replied.

“No molasses cookies though?” Thalia dunked a mass produced Biscoff and dreamed of hopping a plane to anywhere.

Typist tossed a scowl at the muse who was wearing her swimsuit and kicking back in a lounge chair while maximizing her exposure to the morning sun.

“She sharpened the pencils.” Urania looked up from Wonderworks by Angus Fletcher where she was learning about how the Book of Job was a literary invention that traveled a road from justice to revenge and then… over years of evolution… like the telephone game we played as children… concepts of forgiveness, empathy, and the apology were added.

“So… we have our meeting with our editor about Meandering Muses tomorrow… Are you ready?” asked Typist.

Thalia sat up straight in her chair. Urania scribbled notes with the speed of a hare feeling Henrietta’s stare and Calliope’s eyes widened and she nodded up and down, up and down.

Here goes nothing, or everything.
One never knows for sure.