Work Text:
Charlie’s chin was pressing too hard into the meat of his right palm. His left index finger unconsciously bent and straightened, over and over. Words scrolled up with each pass, blue eyes flicking side to side with an eager passion.
Reaching the end, he sagged back and felt the ache in hands and chest. This was a good job but the first reading was always the best bit. He sat with the shape of it, where the characters landed.
Breathing deep, he moused back to the top and began the hard part. In the first paragraph, he added four commas.