A writer with an open book in lap is like a cat with a scratching post in paw.
Everything about the experience results in rich, guttural purrs.
If it’s a bad read, the claws show no mercy.
A good book? Oh, the obscene rubbing and playful scratching that will occur!
Or is that, um, just me?
Pardon me while I go check my Prozac.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
