Charlotte slammed the door in his face.
She stood for a minute, listening for his voice or footsteps. There weren't any.
She sighed.
"That was awfully mean. There must have been a nicer way to write him out."
She went to the table and poured herself a new glass of wine.
"Oh, of course, that's right I'm the bitch, I'm not supposed to care," she said. "Over-sexed, self-indulgent femme fatale who uses men and then discards them, that's my profile, right? I wish I weren't such a dull, misogynistic stereotype. Oh well, poor Robert, at least he got one good lay before he had to go."
She sipped her wine, and then she put a finger to her chin in thought.
"But wait, I just realized, there are no other characters," she said. "Now that he's gone, I don't have anything to do.
"And that must mean that my story is coming to an end!"
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Brilliant!
I loved it. Very nicely done piece of self-referential writing. I don't suppose you've read Godel Escher Bach? (pls excuse lack of accents)
> "It's traditional to begin a story in medias res."
Yeah, I've been trying to do that, but it hadn't occurred to me to bring the phrase into the story.more...
Fascinating
This is only the second story of yours that I've read, but I find your writing so freaking fascinating.
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