I’m always getting metaphorically locked out of my own manuscript. The characters start nanny-nanny-poo-poo-ing behind the door, running around in superman capes, dipping their fingers into peanut butter jars, coloring all over the walls.
Today I said, I’ve had enough of you fools. I erased a moment they’ll never have again. Ripped away a memory. Sent them back a week. Turned their day into night.