William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had been busy tidying up around her little apartment, not something she did very often, but needs must, although after more than two hours she was beginning to flag.

Still, it was definitely worth it, especially her lovely table where she writes; it was mostly for working on her laptop, but she often printed things out for prudence sake, one wouldn’t want to lose in that way after all, as she shuddered for a moment.

Now everything was in order, she had pruned all those unnecessary pieces of A4 paper, and the useful ones she had used her paper hole puncher to put them into several binders, as she smiled to herself being pleased with what she had done.

Her vintage Velos lightning-perforator two hole puncher which she’d used it in the office when she worked there (and then nicked it on that last day), now she tried to pinch it open carefully, but it seemed to be stuck, but then, of course, it sprung open and all those tiny round paper bits, almost like confetti, dropped all around the table and floor.

More than irritating as she glared at the once clean and sparkling area, as she trudged to the kitchen cupboard.

But then she had a thought as she looked outside, it was such a lovely spring day; she should go out and have a quick walk over to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, since that would be the perfect coffee to drink just now.

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