329 of 365

A blank page lay on his desk, exactly where he placed it a week ago. The emptiness of the white page blinded him. Still, he could be credited with no word, and that very fact haunted him. His fingers moved above the keys, never touching a letter, taunting the air that swirled between what was and what could be. His thoughts a clamor, debating and disputing within, unable to set the straight from the chaotic.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Compliment, critique, conceive, create...you know the drill. Thanks for stopping by and saying hello.