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The Cursor


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It mocks me.
I drum my fingers on the desk, place them on the keyboard.
The.
My mind is blank, and I fold my hands in my lap, staring at the screen.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
I still can't think of anything to add, but I force my fingers back onto the keys.
The what? It taunts. The what, the what?
Frustrated, I delete the single word I've typed.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
I find myself drumming my fingers again, this time with unnecessary force.
Why can't I think of anything?
Blink, it jeers. Blink, blink, blink!
I want to slam my forehead onto the keyboard, if only to put a few more letters on the screen.
Instead, I bury my face in my hands.
I can still see it, though, the image imprinted on the insides of my eyelids.
Blink, it giggles. Blinkety-blink, blink!
I look back at the screen, wanting nothing more than to click the little X in the top corner.
Suddenly, my fingers work their way back onto the keys as an idea forms in my head.
Why not?
Bli-? it stutters as my fingers begin to tap away at the keyboard:
The Cursor.



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nightwolfsnow said...
Mar. 6, 2011 at 9:44 am:
I loved this! It made me laugh and I related to it.
 
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