Irene sat at her desk in her modern luxury condo. She stared at the blank yellow notepad in front of her and tapped on it with her pen. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She was tapping in time with the small clock on her desk that was ticking beside her. Sound and silence. The alternating between the two, balancing out the sounds, was somewhat comforting to her. She closed her eyes and tapped her pen on the notepad more. 

“Don’t write anymore books.”

The sound of her pen now scribbling furiously on the notepad was overpowering the soft ticking noises from the clock.

Irene grimaced and muttered, “Stupid girl. Who even tells someone something like that?”

Irene knew her books wouldn’t resonate with every single person on the planet. She knew her books were verging on cheesy, but she didn’t think she wrote badly enough to be instructed not to write anymore by a complete stranger. She wasn’t even in the process of writing, yet it hurt her to hear someone tell her to stop. She mentally scolded herself for announcing to the press that she was in the process of writing a new book. If continuously praying for ideas is considered “in the process,” then she was in the process. Except she knew she wasn’t, not even an idea had popped into her head. At least, not an idea she deemed worthy of being released as one of her books. 

The growling of her stomach interrupted her own thoughts and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since the day before. She got out of her leather chair and headed to her kitchen. She opened it and was greeted with a bottle of sparkling water, a small contained of kimchi, and some caviar. 

“How fancy.” Irene thought.

She dialed the number for her Italian restaurant and ordered delivery from them. Writing on an empty stomach would only make her grouchy to no end.

After a quick meal of pasta, Irene glanced at her work desk and headed to her fitness room instead. She had a small area in her condo apartment where she could work out. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a treadmill, exercise bike, and a couple of weights. She hopped onto the exercise bike and popped in her earphones before starting a light cycle session.

-----

Irene’s best friend had come up to the apartment without any struggle. The building security guards had already familiarized themselves with the top visitor of Irene, Wendy Son.

To the outside eye, Irene looked like a girl who was staying fit in what looked like a dream home for most young adults. To the eyes of Wendy Son, she knew better and knew that her best friend was doing anything to forget that she had a writer’s block and that she had a book to write.

“So…I heard there was a bit of a fuss yesterday.” Wendy said to Irene as the writer got off her fitness bike.

Irene wiped the sweat off her neck with a towel and shrugged.

“They asked about your dating life.”

The twist of a cap and a light fizz from a bottle of sparkling water echoed through the room. A long sip and then a response from. Irene, “It’s none of their business.”

“I know that,” Wendy began, “But maybe you should think about dating again?”

“Why should I?”

“It could help with your block.”

“I’m not interested in dating.”

“Why not?”

Irene let out a loud sigh, indicating frustration, and responded with a hint of annoyance in her tone, “You know why, Wendy.”

Wendy gave up on the topic. She could tell when was pushing Irene too far and didn’t want to upset the stressed girl even more. 

‘But what about the other thing?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“What other thing?” Irene asked raising an eyebrow.

“You had a weird fan who told you not to write anymore or something.”

Irene rolled her eyes, “I’d hardly call that a fan.”

“So what happened?”

Irene paused for a moment, “She just said her name, then somethin