Outside the rows of bookshelves pricked up their ears.
Inside the room, tension was mounting. On the table, recent scribbles curled and shuddered, pens hatched and scratched. Ink was being spilt.
There could be no doubt – the Disambiguaters were divided and opposing camps were forming. The exclamation marks felt threatened, maligned. The apostrophes were smug, triumphal. The semi-colons were keeping their heads down, aware of ethnic cleansing elsewhere.
The commas and full-stops couldn’t have cared less; they knew they were safe.
The capital letters rose head and shoulders above it all.
From deep under the table a digital cat meowed.
© Patrick Prinsloo