Empty

She hadn’t had a great thought for months. No matter how many cafés she went to for inspiration, how many pencils she held thoughtfully to chin, how many freak-show passerbys she tried to furiously encapsulate in iambic pentameter, she was left with nothing but a notebook of lifeless clichés and a head full of empty.

And so, as she continued to hold pencil thoughtfully to chin, she decided to stop being a writer and get into advertising.

Go fig.

Mahsuda Snaith