She sat back. The line was crooked. It was inconsistent. No typographer would ever approve it. It was, by every technical measure, a mistake .
Then she underlined the name of her file with a single, shaky, hand-drawn red line. It was a signature. It was a step. illustrator text underline
It thickened, pressing hard into the tablet, creating a dark, ink-well swell under the ‘a’ in ‘afraid’. That was the weight of the mother’s last goodbye. The press of memory. She sat back