Story #103

The writer sat before his laptop. He stared at the blank screen. He had exactly one hundred and three words to write his masterpiece. He had tried and failed one hundred and two times already. This was it. He knew it had to be something meaningful. Something that stood as the exclamation point to his previous attempts. But what would he write about? Was there really anything left to write about? He didn't care to think those thoughts. He had it in him. Somewhere. He sat. He looked up and saw his reflection in the window. "I think I've got it," he exclaimed.