Lack of Words
I took a sip of the steaming black liquid, taking comfort in the bitter taste. My rose colored tongue peaked out from its moist home and swept over my mocha flavored lips. All the while my long pale fingers nervously drummed against the black and very modern wooden table. I peaked through my fiery shock of red hair, the emerald green of my eyes widening at how busy the coffee shop happened to be, everything was a blur, dizzyness overtook me as I memorized every detail of the world around me against my will.
Quickly I looked down, trying to forget all the images, the olive green walls, the lone woman in black and white (who also happened to have a mole above her left eyebrow). They all burned bright in the back of my mind; one of the reasons I didn't go out in public often.
I tried to focus on my laptop, the word document blank, I shut my eyes, the white glow still present with closed eyes; I think they called it ghost images, I had read a article that had mentioned it about five years ago, the url was as clear as if I was looking at it right at this moment.
Focus. Is the word I kept repeating in my mind, I had to write this new outline for the publishing company.
I filled out the title, Outline.
My lips turned downwards into a grimace. I thought that being a author would be something easy and enjoyable; I would be able to be alone with books(something I had done for most of my life) but after two years of being one of the best selling authors, I was getting bored. Inspiration wouldn't ease me out of this rut.
I took a sip of coffee and found that it was cold.