update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/001.html

@@ -61,7 +61,7 @@
 <p>Ey nodded. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do that, yeah. Any suggestions?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Perhaps ey could do a grand gesture and surprise Dear. I have loved it every time that you have surprised me. I do not think that Codrin has learned how to do that yet.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sure I know how to teach someone how to do grand gestures.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She tugged at eir fingers. &ldquo;You have become a script writer and performer, my dear, do not sell yourself short. Besides, to hear Dear tell it, ey is not incapable. The name thing, the surprise dinner, the forking stuff. Ey is just shy, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She tugged at eir fingers. &ldquo;You have become a playwright and performer, my dear, do not sell yourself short. Besides, to hear Dear tell it, ey is not incapable. The name thing, the surprise dinner, the forking stuff. Ey is just shy, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a Bălan thing,&rdquo; ey said.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;And it is our job as Odists to fuck with you until you break out of it. I have faith in em, just as I had faith in you.&rdquo; She slid the paper back across the table to em. &ldquo;You just need to pass that on.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ioan knew that it would be quite a while yet before eir and May&rsquo;s forks merged back down. Time Is A Finger Pointing At Itself, the director of the play was quite strict but she also drank like a fish and clung jealously to some remnant of productions she&rsquo;d remembered from more than two centuries ago, so it had become a comfortable rhythm for Ioan, May, and any other actors who wished to join to follow her to a pub that served strong drinks and greasy food.</p>