Some very very apocryphal Aculeo & Amunet – with a wink at my friend Claire.
File under “metafiction“.
Or something equally fancyful.

Amunet dropped the rolled-up parchment on the table in front of Aculeo.
“You read it,” she said.
He picked up the roll but kept his eyes on her, as she moved to the window, her expression sour.
“Why me?” he asked.
She shrugged, and pretended to look out in the street below.
“Because I know what he’s going to say,” she said finally. “And I hate men that grovel.” Continue reading →