Despite man's best endeavor, fiction blog has turned personal.

Sure you start off writing a few stories after this chick leaves you.

You say, "This is all just fiction."

But it isn't, is it?

.

"Who the fuck are you?"

An annoying [adjective] person, whose one parent had awarded the missing of a fourth toe, was asking this upon fairly a pleasant granite rock, drenched in good waterfall shimmer.

"I'm just here to write," said the Observer.

"Hah," said the little guy, dancing on his dancing rock, "hah!" He then pulled away from said rock, slid behind and then kicked a small piece away with his toe, as though it were a pebble. "You can't write about me, young man!" he said.

The Observer recorded video, audio and speech, and then cataloged the collection as a 'Note'. "I'm not writing about you," he said. "I am writing fiction."

.

End of Part One (Chick Leaves You)