He desperately searched for his lost genius, rummaging through empty coffee mugs and dying cigarette ends.
But nothing. Not a hint, not a spark, just scorching agony,
creeping all over him,
Betrayed and abandoned by his words, he sat there empty, dry. Striped naked of the talent he once had.
He had said in an interview years ago, there is nothing scarier for a writer then success. His words were walking out on him today. They were proving him right.