The February issue is just about done. I mean, we've...
I can't even think...

We've sent away all our little words, pictures, and ideas to become magically colorful, glossy, and bound.

It's a miracle, really.

This is when we all sort of flop around, waiting for something to happen.

Here we are, crowded together dumbly, jittering with What Happens Next(?!), trembling with What Are We Forgetting(?!), teeming with Did We Spell Everything Right(?!), and completely frigging overcome by Oh God, Is It Over(?!).

This is also when we make jokes about the next issue, the unborn.

***

John (flippantly leaning up against a wall, yawning): "So, we're going to have Scarlett Johansson on the cover of the next issue. Is there any connection to music?"
Robert (unfazed, confident): "We'll make a connection."
Stephen (hopeful, sincere): "Can I be the photographer?"

Elizabeth gives a look, shakes her head.

EXIT.