Vincenzo

Writer's block came at the worst possible time. Example, right now I wanted to prove to Michele and that muppet that called himself Alessio that I was capable of staying on my own.

I had slapped and knocked myself, had pressed the backspace key a thousand times, and had grunted all I could. Yet, all I could show off was a paragraph. Don't even get me started on the dreaded blinking cursor.

Alessio….

Fuck. No way. I rather died than succumbed to defeat.

And so, I engaged in an anxiety-reducing exercise. Breathe in…. Breathe out…

Here we go.

I sat still to think something up. Gradually, ideas seeped in. I cracked my neck and hunched my fingers on the keyboard. I was able to form two sentences for the second paragraph before my muse bailed on me. As always!

Hitting the save icon, I shot up from my seat. All roads led to the private lounge.

I grabbed a bottle of brandy from the fridge, poured some quantity in a tumbler and threw it in. The drink scalded my throat. Just the type of