“I’m too tired to write,” she said, and her fingers stuttered across the keyboard. The ghost of an idea slid through her mind, barely visible through the exhausted fog. She noticed the muted shape, seamlessly blending with the shadows, and for a brief second it was illuminated. She saw the tale.
Her fingers sped up and moved across the keys in a staccato dance. Black type crept up the screen like mold in a time lapse video. Then, the illumination faded back into shadow and vanished. Her fingers stuttered once again and became still.
“I’m too tired to write,” she said, and her fingers grew silent.