Millie gingerly took Devin's hand, her heart beating so hard she was convinced the other could hear it.

“Excuse me!?”

Devin looked at her, his dark eyes a bottomless pool leading to the abyss..

People told her not to get involved with him. Told her that she would drown, like many before her.

But she couldn't stay away, not when his very presence attracted her like-

“Okay! I'm done! I'm done!” The chair scraped backwards sharply when Millie stood up.

She had received this anomalous type-writer in the mail a few days ago and since then, the typewriter had been writing about her non-stop.

The day she received it, she went outside and almost got hit by a bike. When she came home, the type-writer had sat innocently at her desk, the very same events recorded on it.

It was mind boggling, she thought she had gone insane. But things kept happening.

It wrote that she would find a hundred bucks at the bottom of her jean pocket before she washed it. She did.

It wrote that she would drop her mug, just barely missing burning herself with the hot tea she had made. She did.

And just an hour or so ago, the type-writer had gone crazy.

It usually wrote things that would happen in the timeframe a few hours from the present, but this time, it wrote the entirety of the following week.

All featuring her and her cranky unlikeable coworker falling in love.

Devin was fine, technically. He was annoying, but he was a decent person. Their personalities just never meshed well, and Millie was fine with that.

The problem was, Devin was a guy.

She did not like guys.

So how did she fall in love with Devin, you ask?

She did not know. It felt very insulting.

She was very sure that Devin was married too. And to another guy, no less.

So this could not happen. No matter if it was dictating her future, or merely controlling it, she did not want this to come true.

Sadly, this was easier said than done.

What was written seemed to always come true, whether she ran from it or not. All of her attempts to break or get rid of the type-writer had all ended unsuccessfully. Reappeared when thrown away, miraculously repairing itself when broken, and she couldn't type anything while it was doing it's own thing either.

Leaning against the desk with a hand massaging her temples, she racked her brain for ideas. She couldn't run from this, and she definitely wouldn't let nature take its course either! So what could she do…?

She took the paper out of the machine and frowned at the cheeky little 'THE END' written at the bottom of the page. The entire thing had ended with Devin professing his love to her in the most nauseating manner that the fictional Millie had absolutely loved.

She ran her tongue over her teeth as she pondered.

And then it hit her.

Who was the only person who could change the story of an Author?

An Editor, of course!

They were the person who keeps the writer on track and makes sure that the story flows smoothly for the readers. So if she could just 'edit' the document…

Opening one of the drawers of her desk, she took out the stack of papers written by the typewriter and a red pen.

She couldn't edit any of the things that had already happened, but there was something in the middle of the story that had alluded to this night.

In some dialogue, she had told Devin that she had broken her vase a few days prior. Just a few hours ago, in a fit of anger towards the type-writer, she had broken that very same vase.

It seemed very unlikely since she had already broken the vase, but she had no other ideas.

“Oh, its just that I broke my vase a few days ago, and I dont have the money to replace it.”

She cut out that sentence and wrote a different one instead.

“Oh, it's just that I almost broke my vase a few days ago. I was very lucky, since I don't have the money to replace it.”

It was the best she could do, as this kept the narrative flow of the story the same, and didn't bring any major changes.

After doing so, she went to her living room and checked the side-table at the end of her couch where the vase usually sat and…

Nothing. It didn't work.

Millie felt like crying.

She went back to her desk and sat in the chair with a huff.

In her frustration, she began her edits anyway. Crossing out Devin's name and replacing it with a random female coworker's on impulse.

After that, she abandoned her work on the desk, shut off the lights, and curled up in her bed.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of her 'love story', so she just wanted to sulk for the night.

When she woke up and sluggishly got ready to go to work, she double-took at the sight of the vase sitting on the side-table.

When she went to work, the person who she bumped into was not Devin, but a female co-worker of hers.

“Hey, Millie, Are you okay? Your face is red.”

Ashley, with her dark brown hair and green eyes. Ashley, with her soft voice and short stature.

Millie did not mean to write her name on the paper.

But here she was, stealing all the dialogue that was meant to be Devin's.

How could she not be embarrassed?

“Uh- Uhm, yeah! I-I'm good! It's just a bit hot in here, ahaha!” She awkwardly fiddled with the collar of her blouse.

“...Millie, it's air conditioned.”

She felt her face burn up completely.

“Ahaha! Yeah, I knew that!”

Ashley eyed her suspiciously, but let it go.

God, Millie was a mess. She would smash that type-writer to bits when she gets home.

But Ashley just invited her to go to the mall, so that might have to wait.

The cover image was created in Canva!