Disclaimed.
--
Eiri just sat.
Every few minutes, he attempted to type something, but then erased it because—dammit—none of it sounded quite right.
Writer's block was a bitch.
He'd tried cigarettes, drinks, TV, radio, books, even that stupid manga Shuichi had. Still the screen remained devoid of anything but a blinking cursor.
Finally, he folded. He walked over to the ready CD player, pressed play, and began listening even as his fingers flew over the keyboard.
The things he did to get inspired…
The Rage Beat played on.
--
Notes
Review, please…