The Writer and Her Alpha
While moving along with the song, my fingers quickly tapped the keyboard, creating that familiar sound that the four corners of my room hear every day. My eyes were focused on the screen, possibly the only thing I've been looking at for the past year aside from television.
As usual, I hardly noticed the time. Half an hour, an hour, until it reaches two hours. And the previously blank screen is now filled with three thousand words.
"The end." I said fondly while pressing the letter' D,' a sign that I had finished another novel. "Finished." I smiled and lengthened the last word, raising my arms in triumph and letting out a big yawn before slumping back on my chair.
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