Black ink bleeds out, as a hand dances across the page with a pen between tired fingers. Rhythmically, it taps and scratches the smooth paper, leaving behind bruises and scars on ivory skin.
“Oh hello, old friend. We meet again,” she muses.
This girl and her hand and her pen and her paper. This is one bond that lasts forever.
Though inspiration may ebb and flow, and yearning to write may come and go, she always returns to her pen and her paper. As darkness descends, it’s writing that saves her.