“It was a dark and stormy nigh….”

James hit the backspace key as he sat in the dark, giving a sardonic laugh to the empty room. He ran a hand through his hair, unwashed and badly in need of a cut. His usual perfect appearance stared at him mockingly from the back of an already published work.

“If you’re so goddamn clever, then you write the book.” He spit at the novel and brushed it to the floor. It landed with a thud and fell to the acknowledgments page, where two words had been typed.

To E.W.

With a little over three months to go until deadline, every word that left his fingertips were trite and meaningless.

He had lost his muse.

Like a passing summer storm, as quickly as she had entered into his life, she was gone.

He sat and stared at the monitor, unable to term his grief. Four days he had been like this, his wife yelling from the other side of civilization, pleading for his return.

“Oh Emily.” He sobbed again as he threw his head in his hands.

“Yes?”