He sat by the white glow of the empty page. A white cord was all that connected him to the world outside. But that cord wasn’t powerful enough to connect him with the worlds inside. His fingers hovered just a few centimeters above the keys. Only the occasional twitch belied that he was not at peace. Belied that he was searching for something. Belied that he was a writer.
And then the story came and there was no need to lie any longer…
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