He sat behind the keyboard and stared.
This same set of letters, arrayed in no particular order, used to talk to him. They would tell him what to say – pressing certain keys in order to form thoughts that he didn’t even know he had. But now the silence was beyond deafening. It was the end result of a very trying year, he guessed.
In fact, all of the above words were the product of three days of thinking. It was going to be so good, he thought. Ground-breaking. Worth the wait, even. So he started typing…
Is that a word?
What happened to the words? The thoughts? The masterful bon mots?
They will be back someday, he thought.
After all, a new year had begun.
Thoughtlessly, he fumbled for a cigarette from his breast pocket.