EPILOGUE
Shouts filled Library Meeting Room A. Through the main door and across the cavernous room, three people sat in a triangle around a circular table. Golden dusk slanted across the weekly meeting of the Bakersville Irregulars Writing group. Outside, winter grew weary under Spring's warm breath.
"I should have Hardcastle put you back in solitary for your sloppy similes!" Spit drizzled from Harris lips. Arthur, object of his ire, smirked, arms folded over chest. Kavi, equilateral to the other two at their circular table, rubbed the headache at her temples.
"Pick a point and focus. Breathe."
Harris turned to Kavi. "No one wants to hear about camera flashes like the 'glinting smile of an ages-weary Kraken.' It's bullshit. If we're going to sell our story to publishers, it has to be better than this."
Arthur blew a raspberry. "If bad prose was a crime, you'd be walking the Green Mile."