in response to Jerry Ratch's "twitter quitter"

They're breaking down the doors to get in. It becomes a writers' hangout. A literary salon. Coffee is served and quaffed in great quantities. Croissant crumbs float gently down onto manuscripts.  

In one corner, a pianist plays a Bach partita, a shaft of mote-filled sunlight illuminating her dancing left hand.

Words are written. Hashtags exchanged. But membership is limited to 140 characters.