Kevin W. Bounds

The room was dimly lit by the glow of the laptop, casting long shadows across the floor. His eyes flickered from the blinking cursor on the empty page to the clock in the screen’s lower right corner. His deadline of midnight was approaching fast. A sense of dread coiled into the bottom of his stomach. He let out a long, weary sigh and tried to massage the tense muscles in his neck, his fingers pressing into tight knots.

He usually left more time, but today’s pressing matters shortened his schedule. Like Cinderella, he was in a desperate race against the clock, each tick of the clock a reminder of the impending midnight deadline.

Inhaling deeply to center himself, he whispered, “Just write a single word. Then a single sentence, and repeat.” He typed a few words and deleted them. Taking another deep breath, he began to type again. His words flowed, so he wrote on.