Short Stories →
Interlude
November 12, 2024–Ummmm… What if you nudge it just a tiny bit to the left?
–I told you, it doesn’t work like that.
–You could at least try.
–Ok, if that makes you happy. Nghhhh…! There! See? It’s still in the same place.
–Well, it was worth a shot. Better than just sitting here looking at it.
–Listen, I’ve been through this before and I know there’s no budging, pushing or shoving that will move it. Once it settles all you can do is wait for it to go away by itself.
–Still, I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to move it out of the way. I mean, it isn’t that big really. It shouldn’t be so heavy.
–That only shows you don’t really understand its nature. Size is not the problem, it’s a matter of relative mass. You see, under the current circumstances its mass is practically infinite.
–You make it sound like it’s a black hole instead of a stupid block sitting on top of your desk.
–Don’t give it any ideas.
–You’re kidding, right?
–Only half so. But you are right about one thing, there’s no use staying here just staring at it. Let’s go out somewhere.
–So you’re giving up? I thought your book had a close deadline.
–I’m not giving up, just declaring a small interlude. Besides, I learned long ago sometimes the best way to handle a writer’s block is to simply ignore it. Don’t ask me why, but it seems depriving it of attention helps diminish its mass.
–Er…dude…have you been drinking?
–No, at least not yet. But that does sound like a pretty good idea right now. Let’s go to that new Irish pub downtown. I heard they have real leprechauns handling the taps.
–SIGH. My mom did warn me being friends with a fantasy writer might get weird sometimes.
–A bit, yes. But never boring. You coming?
–Only if you’re buying.
–Deal!