Kyungsoo sits at his desk, fingers tapping on the table, steaming cup of black, bitter coffee at his side. He stares blankly at the overly lit computer screen as the empty document mocks him. Writers block. 

" this," he whipsers to himself, as he sits in his dark room, unable to come up with any ideas for an interesting column. "Why did I want to be a writer in the first place...can't even ing write."

As he opens the desk drawer, hand jumbling through pointless he's tossed in there, he searches for a cigarette and lighter. He takes the carton out, pulls out a single cigarette and faces the window, flame at the ready. As he takes a drag and exhales, he looks out the window, towards the empty sidewalk. Someone is walking alone and slow down the dim walkway. Kyungsoo squints his eyes, trying to adjust his sght to the dark when the stranger looks back at him. 

"," he hisses to himself and looks away, so fast it almost caused whiplash. Slowly, he turns his head to look back out the window, but he's gone.