A screen. An empty screen. The awaiting blink on the line urging the formation of a word.
A word. A juxtaposition of letters that make up one word. A word to bring to life an inner thought.
A thought. A million thoughts. Dancing around a mind that knows not how to savor precious dearth time.
Time. How much does one need? To juxtapose the words to form that thought. That dancing thought that won't settle, that won't thrive, a stillborn child.
A thought that was... Before it had the chance to be...
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