I opened my internet browser and?—
No connection.
No.No.No.No.Iwasn’t one of those people who could write and leave blanks to fix later.Ihad to type while thoughts were flowing in my head.
Touching the keys and creating prose was like turning on an old faucet.Itsputtered and spat sporadically.
But maybe . . . eventually . . . it would run clear and easy.
DidIwant to try . . .
I couldn’t linger on the thought.Ihad been so adamant thatIwas done writing for good.Ididn’t want to be the boy who cried wolf.Orthe author who cried “book.”
This was a fluke.Ithad to be.
Still,Icouldn’t get the whispers of a story out of my head.Theyswirled like screaming phantoms, demanding release to rest in the afterlife.
I tried connecting toJack’sWiFinetwork again, but nothing happened.Thenetwork was still live and the electricity hadn’t been knocked out, butIwas just far enough away for the storm to disrupt my access.
The video call disconnected as the connection was lost entirely.
Shit . . .
I expected the disruption to scare the words away, but they just kept piling in my mind, one on top of the other.
Without giving it a second thought,Iunplugged my laptop and shoved it under my shirt to stay dry asIbolted outside and down the stairs.
Jack’s porch light was on, but he had to go on duty in the morning which meant he was probably getting ready for bed.Isent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t turn me away.
I cut through the hedge and scurried up the steps to his front door as the storm howled and the wind whipped.Flecksof sand scraped my skin as they blew off the dunes.MotherNaturewas showing off all her fury today.Lightningflashed, stabbing the sea asIknocked onJack’sdoor.Ipounded harder, hoping he would hear it over the thunder.
Interior lights turned on, one by one.Iknocked again as the storm drenched me to the bone.
Jack peered out of the blinds.Hiseyes widened as he ripped the door open. “Whatthe hell are you doing,Roar?”Anarm jutted out and wrapped around my waist, dragging me in from the rain. “What’sthe matter?Are—are you hurt?Orsick?Didsomething happen at the house?”
“I have a confession,”Isaid through chattering teeth as the air conditioning hit me like a bitch slap fromJackFrost.
“You’re gonna have pneumonia,” he said as he shuffled me farther into the house. “Shoesoff.Idon’t want wet carpet.”
I kicked my flip-flops off in the entryway and followed him in. “I’vebeen stealing your internet.”
“Yeah.Iknow,” he said as he dipped into his bedroom.
“It’s just not an expenseIcan handle right now and it was just a few times.Imean,Iwasn’t streaming movies or anything like—hold on.”Iblinked. “Didyou just say you know?”
Jack came back carrying a stack of clothes. “Yeah.Iknow,Roar.Igot an alert on my phone the first time you logged in.Personally,IthoughtIhad a pretty good password.”
“It was predictable.”
He pushed the clothes at me. “What’sgoing on?”
I pulled my laptop out from under my shirt. “Istarted writing andIknowIsaidIwas done, but it’s kind of like a sneeze where, if you try to avoid it, you feel cloudy.”
“Cloudy?”
I nodded. “It’sbetter to just sneeze.”
“You’re not making any sense.Doyou need some allergy medicine?”Heyawned. “Whatdoes this have to do with the internet thatI’vebeen so graciously letting you steal?”
