Lucas sat at his desk, staring at yet another empty word document.
He found himself uninspired yet again.
He glanced at his trash can that held the detested manuscript. Half of it was sticking out of the bin, teasing him because he couldn't write anything else.
Every time even the tiniest idea that can be written down crossed his mind, he thought of what other people would see it as: a love letter to Brooke?, an essay of hate for Lindsey?, a paragraph of admiration about Dan?. He can't seem to write down anything that he likes because now he's afraid of how people will see it. His last story ended his engagement. It drove away the girl he loved, all because she thought he wrote it about Peyton.
It wasn't about her though. It was about a scientist and his comet, waiting for it to return. And Peyton was here, she wasn't gone, so why would he be hoping for her return? Their arguments made no sense in his head.
He yawned and realized that it was getting late. Another day gone and he still hadn't written anything.
The screen went blank as he shut off his computer, he wasn't going to write anything when he was tired. He stood up and hesitated as he passed the trash can. He bent down and the manuscript out of it and placed it in the drawer in his nightstand. He turned off the light and crawled into bed. He still missed the feeling of her body next to his.