I strolled onto the grassy lawn of the Mapleleaf Flea Market toward Mads’s vintage clothing stall, waving a piece of paper in the air in front of me. A most excellent piece of paper. Of all the pieces of paper in the world, this one was by far my favorite.
I handed her the check I had received yesterday morning with the post and she peered at it curiously.
She gasped, her eyes widening "Shut up."
"Yep." I beamed.
"Royalties, baby," I said. "I'm a bona fide songwriter. The Kiss Off is a freaking gold mine, who woulda thought?"