"What am I going to write about today?" I think to myself as I perch at a high table in the library. This month-long challenge may be nearing its finish line, but the needle of my writing tank points perilously close to empty.
Then, my ears fasten onto an unseen voice on the far side of a high partition. "I don't want to leave!" the voice wails plaintively. "I don't want to leave! I don't want to leave!"
I figure the wailer for age five, a distraught boy. Thanks for the slice, buddy; I know how you feel. It's the last day of my school's spring break. I don't want to leave, either.