“I keep hitting the keyboard, but nothing happens. I am finished. The words are ended. My story has come to an end,” Dirk said.  He ran a hand over his head and sighed.

“Dirk, I think I know how to solve your problem,” Jen said.  She sat opposite the frustrated writer and began pointing at Dirk’s desk.

Dirk paid no attention.  Dirk was a jerk.

“Oh you think writer’s block can just be solved? You think the art faucet can just be turned on and off all willy nilly? Like the process is akin to a monkey in a hat dancing with finger cymbals on a street corner?  I assure you this is actual work.” Dirk continued being terrible to his friend.

Jen stood up and pointed, with as great a force as could be managed for simply pointing at something, and reminded Dirk that his problem did have a solution.  “Dirk, your keyboard is a piano!”

Dirk looked down.  “I’m such an awful human,” he muttered.


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