She hung around the clueless, this muse, biding her time against the white background that was usually her home. There was no way to hide from the others, but she had found how to become invisible. She made her way across the empty spaces, toward the boundaries, hoping only to find solace. Relieved when no one could see her, she settled in, for what she had a hunch, would be a quiet evening. Completely out of view, she spread words across the paper, with no visible liquid, remaining unknown, like good little inklings do.
The Daily Post – Inkling
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