Day 299 – The Other Writer

There is another writer who works at the same cafe as me in the mornings. He shows up everyday with freshly disheveled hair and a pep in his step that is reminiscent of Irish Spring commercials that aired during the 80’s. He clip clops along at his keyboard like a goddamn show pony, tossing his mane every time he checks a scene off his list (HE HAS A CHECKLIST YOU GUYS) and I hate him a little bit. I imagine he churns out thousands of words while I sit staring at strangers wondering if I can manage another paragraph by day’s end.

I don’t know what he’s writing, a book, a screen play, a graduate thesis (most likely not as he does not have the haggard look of indentured servitude)? I just know from passing his computer screen that he’s working on something very long and that he takes his moleskin with him to the bathroom while leaving expensive laptops and cellphones on the cafe table like I do. You can replace electronics, but your writing you cannot.

Anyway, we’ve never spoken and probably never will. I just don’t know how he does it. Not everyone is prolific, I guess.

A rising tide lifts all boats. – John F. Kennedy

Prompt:  Write about a door left unlocked.

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