The cursor blinked from an empty screen, the only light in a night-draped house. Walls slept; world slept; he, for a moment, slept. She looked over at his backlit-shadowed features; they frowned.
She sighed and could not frown. Or smile. Expressions felt as elusive as the absent story arcs on her page.
I must write something, she thought.
Blink, answered the screen.
Anything?
Blink.
Then; through morning oatmeal mind mush, an idea came. Her fingers poised to type…
He groaned. Sat up. Named her.
She turned to his care.
The cursor sighed, yawned, and went to sleep without her.
Dedicated to Charli, for this week’s prompt at Carrot Ranch.
April 25, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes exhaustion. Who is exhausted and why? Can you make art of exhaustion? Go where the prompt leads!
Respond by April 30, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form. Rules & Guidelines.
Chel Owens 
This speaks to me
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The Story of Every Writer….
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Very nice Chelsea. Your computer like an emotionless friend, no interaction, just stares relentlessly at you while you try to sort out your thoughts…..or is the computer your best friend, keeping you company,waiting patiently while you try to sort out your thoughts and say something meaningful.
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That’s exactly what I thought to convey. Thanks, Len!
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I like this a lot!
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Thank you, Ruth!
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it is a common tale but you’ve expressed it well; sometimes writing about it helps us out of our funk 🙂
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That, and chocolate. Thanks, John.
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Writing in between the bouts of other responsibilities, the computer waits, holding no emotion or judgment.
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It waits for you, and rests.
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That’s often the way of it, Chelsea. The thoughts don’t come until there’s no way of capturing them. I’m pleased you captured these ones though. I particularly like this metaphor: a night-draped house. What lovely imagery.
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Thank you, Norah. I thought to trim that line when the word count grew dangerously high, but found myself too fond of it. 🙂
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Oh, I’m so pleased you left it in. It’s beautiful.
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Again, thank you. 🙂
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