I sipped some lemon tea and held the hot cup in my hands for awhile. It was very cold in the room and I tried to let the warmth of the cup in me, through my frozen fingers. It was very late and I wanted to sleep as soon as possible, though I had to write a story for morning paper, it was my job and some readers, I don’t really know what kind of readers, waited for this story, every single morning.
I wasn’t paid well, so, I hardly kept myself from day to day. Though it was winter already, I even didn’t turn the heating on, it was too luxurious for me and I couldn’t afford it. Hot tea cup was my only shelter from extreme cold.
I experienced the moment like, when you want to write about some feelings, but either there is none or you are stressed so much that you don’t know what to share. Who knows, maybe I had something to write, maybe I could invent some story, but it was very hard to collect and then spread everything on the empty sheet of paper.
It was almost dawn, hot tea has already gone away, I couldn’t feel my fingers, I couldn’t feel that I still held the cold cup, squeezing it tightly in my hands and staring on an empty sheet, with no word on it.
I closed the laptop, put the cup aside and went to bed to warm it.
There will be no morning story in the morning paper. There will be absolutely vacant column, either telling something or absolutely nothing to its viewers.
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