OK, now he could be safe what did he want to write into reality?
But... what if someone found what he'd just written and crossed out those lines? Wait, no. That wouldn't work, no-one but him could use the pen... but... what if he was drunk and crossed them out? Or someone made him cross them out?
He sat there, tapping the pen on the table gently, thinking. He might be being a little paranoid about this, but before he wrote something else he needed to be sure. Oh, wait it's only cancelled if the pen crosses the lines out, right? He picked up the paper and crumpled it into a ball. He then put the pen down and lifted his hand. With a thought the pen snapped into his hand. James glanced down at the crumpled ball realizing that's hardly proof of anything. Unfolding the small piece of paper it still was clear to read.
Garbage disposal downstairs? No, he wanted to deal with this now. Didn't have a lighter (didn't smoke), no scissors up here, though he did have a pocket knife. Well, he could do like the spy movies and eat the thing? He scrunched it into a tiny ball. OK, doable.
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