Canvas 13

It’s hopeless. He collapsed onto the couch. It was 6PM and his eyes were already yearning to shut. His mind was too tired to dream. His body just wanted to embrace nothingness.

All day at work he churned the words in his head, “I need to create something tonight. I MUST create something tonight.” Coffee slid down his throat like black tar creeping into the edge of the sidewalk, he too was clawing at the path everyone else walked. How was everyone else doing this every day? What are their worlds like outside of the corporate walls? “I MUST create. I MUST create.”

When placed in front of the blank canvas, his energy slipping away, no tar to sustain him because without sleep he won’t have answers to the emails in the morning, his mind curled up into a ball, it was bundled up and not willing to play. He needed aspirin not inspiration.

The couch was cozy. So cozy. So…

He forgot to set an alarm, but the microwave let him know it was 3AM. Plenty of time. Plenty of time for coffee. Plenty of time to create before heading to work. “I MUST create.”

Fiction writer. Coffee enthusiast. Writer of romance, mystery, and humor. Discover more at and

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