WRATHofPEACE

Velma sat at the computer steadily working away. Fred was sitting nearby on a large corner couch watching her, he could tell from the almost trance-life expression on her face that she was elsewhere, her fingers dancing over key keyboard like a ballet dancer around a stage, even the regular pressing of the save button was seamlessly choreographed into her movements. Fred wondered where she was now, certainly not the next sentence, nor even the next paragraph; when she was like this her mind could be far into the next chapter, her fingers working desperately to keep up. His gaze travelled to the bookcase next to her desk. It ran the length of