“All I have are deadlines!” Kara complained, deleting yet another full paragraph from the essay that was due that night no later than eleven fifty-nine PM. “I can’t think, my brain hurts, and I don’t understand anything!” She slammed the lid of her laptop shut, frustrated. A head popped out from behind a shelf filled with books, “Could you maybe be a little quieter? We are in a library you know.” Kara’s eyes widened with horror. Her outburst had been out loud ! “I’m so sorry.” She apologized to the irritated student. “None of that was meant to actually be verbal. I thought I was freaking out in my head.” The student looked at her like she was crazy. “Okay.” He said slowly as he went back to reading whatever book he’d found interesting. “Great.” Kara fell forward onto her laptop and groaned. “I need a break.” She mumbled to herself. “Yeah you do. What are you doing?” Kara recognized the voice that belonged to her best friend, Jackie. “I’m wallowing in my se
A writer is simply a photographer of thoughts. -Brandon A. Trean