Missy could feel it, creeping down her nose.
The little drop was collecting, right on the tip. She knew it was there. Knew if anyone was watching, they would probably be grossed out, disgusted by the gathering drip.
Missy considered doing something about it, but was busy. She needed to finish the sentence, the paragraph, the thought, and didn’t want to lose the train. So the drip gathered, more and more.
Finally, the end. The drip dropped, falling slowly, gracefully. Missy dropped the pen to try to catch it, but she was too late. The snot splashed on her paper, making a small wet mark. She sighed, wiped off what she could, and continued writing.
The mucus started to gather again.