Room 407; Early Wednesday Evening [ 03/18 ].

[not_a_mused]

Sitting at his desk, Cal let out a long, distracted sigh. A blank sheet of paper stared back at him, and he supposed he should be grateful. He had put out at least a story lately, and it was a good one, with the proper awful ending of the two main characters, impossible lovers, dying horribly of cholera after they were married. But now his mind was just as blank as the paper that taunted him and he sat sulking at the typewriter, as if that could inspire it to write for him.

So far, it wasn't working.

[[ mostly for the Ears, but the door and post are open if anyone wants to drop by before the roomie does *resists ominous music and/or plotting laugh ]]