That does it. My opus was complete.
I told the employees to send my manuscript past-haste to whoever wanted to read it.
My words must reign eternal.
May those who read this and any of my other literary works find some kind of meaning.
I know some people won’t heed my words, but the fault is on them.
I fear that people may not realize all of what’s happening.
If I can ignite some creativity in these individuals, then I’ve felt that I’ve done my real job.
Things have faded away much like my previous place of employment twenty years ago. I know some brick-and-mortar shop where people don’t know jackfruit about stories work there.
Now if all of you excuse me, my corporeal servitude has been pardoned.