I sat in the small, quiet room in the back of the library. I was writing about my latest inspiration, a love story, no less.
I found myself very engrossed in the writhing of the lovers’ bodies and their travels, trials, and tribulations.
Then I was tapped on my shoulder by a friend sharing the quiet room with me.
My mind rushed with worry, had he seen what I was writing? Had he read it fast enough, before I could change the screen? My heart panicked. But I turned around and said, “What?”
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He responded in a whisper…
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”...There are 214 tiles on the ceiling.”