The blank page stared at her. She tapped her pen on it.
The white paper was to blank. She wanted to write, but couldn’t find the right words. The white blank page stared up at her it dared, challenged her to write something.
There was so much importance behind this paper. This page was the last clean one. As in the last blank, non-recycled-seven-times page.
She wanted her words to be important. That they would last until the end of time. The strongest memory would be weaker than these words, even as they faded.
She began writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment