Finals week.

The final night.

Bleary eyes and bright monitor,
clatter of the keyboard, thoughts transferred.

I have very nearly reached my limit. Creation is draining, and I have only so much left to give.

An unknown track.

My eyes widen.


Wow, this is good stuff.

A heavy drum,
rhythmic and upbeat.

A clarinet,
teasing notes leading me on.

A man's voice, pleading for a moment of a woman's time, her coquettish denial.

Track ends.
I carry on.

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