“I saw it in the credits, so I googled it. I like those type of details.” He lowered his voice. “So did you sign one of those nondisclosure forms or something?”

“It’s not like that.” She shook her head. “He’s a very private person. I respect that.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, you’re the only person I’ve told.”

BOB

The Quick Brown Fox

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog, Bob typed. The keys made a scissoring, snapping sound, while his shackles jingled. His hope was the sound would be enough to make Derrick leave him in peace. Leave him long enough to figure his way out of this situation.

Good writing rained trouble down on a character. In the best writing, the trouble was caused by the character’s own actions. Which pretty much summed up Bob’s current situation.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. This time Bob’s pinky finger didn’t hit the Q key hard enough, and the metal arm fell back before it struck the paper. The antique typewriter’s black keys required a lot more force than the square white tiles on his little Apple wireless keyboard. At least with the typewriter it was clear how each tap became a letter. His computer keyboard used some wizardry called Bluetooth (a magical name if Bob had ever heard one) to transfer the faint scrabbles and twitches of his fingers into words on an unconnected screen.

How was he going to get out of here? In the past, he’d put his characters up a metaphorical tree and then waited for them to get themselves down. If it was too easy, he threw some (metaphorical) rocks at them.

Bob had never thought about how frightening it must feel to be high above the ground, trying to duck rocks, with no good solutions.

A bell rang inside the typewriter, making him start. It was a signal he was nearing the edge of the paper. Still mechanically lifting his feet to keep pace with the slowly moving treadmill, Bob swiped the silver bar of the carriage return to the right. Despite everything, he enjoyed the zipping sound it made.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. This time there were no mistakes. The clacking of the keys joined the low growl of the motor and the jangle of the shackles. He could hear nothing else. Was Derrick now settled in the living room? Or was he just outside the door, listening?