Muse
Life sucked. The damn pills couldn’t change that fact. They just made him happier about it. Or at least indifferent to it. The upside was that they were keeping him from driving his car full speed off the lookout point along the Lady Young. The trade off for his life, however, seemed to be career suicide. He sat staring at the computer screen, the blank page of the open word document taunting him. The empty whiteness glared with a harshness that made his eyes burn. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the long hours staring at the monitor waiting for inspiration to come. The ringing of the phone did nothing to stir his stagnating mind. “This is Mike,” came his voice over the answering machine, “you know what to do.” The long beep was followed by the all too familiar rant of his agent, asking him where the hell he was and if he’d forgotten about his deadlines. A couple more rants, some expletives and the usual request for him to pick up the goddamed phone. Or at least write something