XXIV.II Coordinate

Pulling an all-nighter was, and will always never be a part of my plans, but I guess fate had something else in mind when I accidentally spilled ink over the last few pages of my book. As a result, someone who has never been fond of staying up late for work was forced to redo the last few pages of her handwritten book. And as one might think, it was a complete and utter pain in both her back and her wrist.

Needless to say, that person was me.

"Fuck me..."

I stared at the finished product with exasperation and relief. The ink-stained pages of a few hours ago laid strewn around behind my desk as their newly-written replacements shone in their white backgrounded splendor. The Art of War. Something that I'd never thought I'd actually write down, let alone even remember this well, to be honest. At least buying the damn thing was well worth the price of