It’s that blank page again.
Not today please.

The writer has already been sat for half an hour at his desk, wondering what his first words should be.

Should I make myself a cup of coffee, the smell always wakes me up.
One, two, three in the afternoon. I am already awake.

The sun beams reflect on the bright white piece of paper placed on the table, perfectly aligned with the edge of the table.

I only have one task and I cannot even get it done. These workers at their desks, multi-tasking, answering their bosses’ demands have far more merit than me.

Lucas feels a chill through his chest and his back. A cloud nonchalantly crosses the blue sky, creating a shadow over Lucas’ face.

Something will come. I will think of something brilliant to write today.
No, positive affirmation doesn’t work. At least not for me.

Lucas shivers again. This time the white shapes have cleared from the sky and it is his cat Perle who has brushed his shin.

A story about a cat? I am desperate, this has to stop. Five thousand words. I have to write that amount before the sun sets.

Four, five, six, seven and eight cups of coffees later, Lucas has written nothing on the white page.

As he reminisces about his move to the city of Los Angeles a couple of months ago, he takes his pencil and writes a word, and then another one. He is unsure of the content of his sentences, he only feels the flow coming out of his pencil.
The azure sky has turned a shade of marine, illuminated by a couple of stars and the moon close by. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.