Though I’ll re-type them later digitally, I write the text in narration boxes and speech bubbles onto the page by hand, just to make sure that the text fits them. And sometimes, to make sure that the written text fits the panels, I’ll first write it down exactly as I mean to put it on the page onto some random scrap paper.
Recently, there was a spider in the apartment, hanging from the ceiling by a thread. Not wanting to harm it and also not wanting to have the spider touch me, I grabbed one notepaper and planned to catch the spider on it, but my attempts to rescue the swinging little bastard caught my boyfriend’s attention. Being less hesitant about it, he simply gently took the spider by the silk thread and carried it outside by the thread itself. I left the note paper on the kitchen table and forgot it there.
I sometimes walk the neighbour’s dog when the weather is bad, since she’s old enough to have a great-granddaughter who’s learning words, and slipping on the ice means breaking bones and breaking bones is a matter of life and death for old ladies. I usually tell my boyfriend bye and blow him a little kiss at the door before I close it, but that night he was so focused on the game he was playing I didn’t want to distract him, and simply left after trying to call his name twice. Routine day, business as usual.
You’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with any other aforementioned matter, but once I got home my boyfriend asked about what’s up. I had no idea what he was talking about, either, before he explained. He hadn’t noticed me leave, only that I had left without saying a word (something that he interpreted I’d only do if I was mad at him), and there was a note on the kitchen table. I had already forgotten both the spider and the note, before he showed it to me. Without thinking, I had picked the random paper with the most unnerving possible line from the comic written right in the middle of it.
“I only asked for more wine. Now let us play for real stakes.”