“You’d think after 15-years, I’d have more people reading my stuff,” Dumas complained. “I see bloggers who’ve only been at it a year or two and some have hundred’s of people following their website and dozens of comment’s and ‘likes.’”
There was a pause before Jezebeth verbally stabbed him in the heart, “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re really not that good?”
With her long red finger nails, Jezebeth lifted his face and looked into Dumas’ eye’s, relishing the hurt in his voice, “The thought never crossed my mind.”
But now that it did — Dumas never wrote another word.