One Hundred And Twenty One Words

Firdaus felt like flipping his laptop over. The only thing stopping him was the lack of cash in both his wallet and his bank account (he only had one) to cover the cost of repairing the self-inflicted damage. He had been staring at his laptop for a good fifteen minutes now, three times longer than it usually took for him to type the first few sentences of his daily piece. He needed something to draw on, but nothing came to mind. He shut his laptop and stared blankly at the bouquet of flowers sitting in front of him, and read again the card that came with it that read “I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother will be sorely missed.”