I should say goodbye and leave the room with only a faint whiff of Shalimar to remind you I was here, but frankly I’m a mess. And I sure don’t smell like perfume right now.
Because we are writers and we must have a last (the last?) word.
Two days ago a small explosion erupted on the block that sent everyone running in confusion.
Red Room was shutting down.
We gathered in small groups, chatting amongst ourselves on our cyber front porches.
How will I find you?
What’s a wattpad?
What do you mean our stuff’s saved to an internet archive?
Where are you?
Hello? hello? Give me your contact information.
We need a place to gather our thoughts, comfort each other, and share information.
So The Red Room Writers was born.
As soon as I unlocked the door, people began streaming into the room, chattering and…
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