The carefully written words reached the end of the papyrus paper and the author let out a soft sigh.
He had written many words, he had written tears, laughter, hurt, scars, growth, treacherous pitfalls and love.
It had been a good chapter, as a chapter should be.
A long, hard, painful and learning chapter.
He gathered them tenderly in his smooth hands and propped them up onto the mahogany table to align them.
It was a large stack of paper, each flimsy sheet carefully bound within the leather casing, adding to the historic 17 earlier chapters.
Then he reached for the new pieces of paper, untainted and waiting for the ink.
Perhaps these would hold a better story.
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