I slumped over the laptop. Now, I had something new to do with it – the very reason I had initially quoted to possess the item in the first place – to write. I felt sad for the many TV shows and movies that I had religiously accumulated over the so called revision holidays. They poked fun and jeered because I would never know what happened in that next episode and I ignored.
The blank word document gave me death glares and the cursor and I had something in common – neither of us could stop blinking. I shut my eyes, in an attempt to think. I felt an uncanny sense of calm. I smiled to myself, all warm in winter clothes. My mom must have walked in at some point. She was probably standing there for a while, laughing. She finally said, ‘I know you have the posture of an amoeba, but at least sleep right.’ And she thought I was actually sleeping. I don’t blame her, what I blame is the writer’s block.
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