Another year

Suzanne stiffened a yawn as her eyelids weighed down momentarily. The world outside of the metal cart that swiftly weaved blurred and scattered buildings and faces with distortion. The train eased and exhaled with drawn out fatigue. Swept with the movement of bodies struggling to leave as others fought to enter Suzanne found herself roaming the dusty streets in neglect of her own desires. Hands stuffed in deep in her pockets a necklace entwined with her fingers, stuffing its way into her grasp. Happiness bliss and feared in the large city she walked towards work. Thoughts keeping her up night after night, hour after hour, her body hunched sluggishly from strained work. A crazed imagination eating away at her if she neglected to work, pass time with swollen happiness she sometimes can not seem to find but all the same unable to stop.

Escaping the heavy street already lined with people at such early hours. The doors swung close, and encased her into a chilling coolness of air conditioning. “Hey Suzanne” a holler brought her away from scribbling on a peace of paper to enter her name. “Hey” the response not as cheerful as the bright young face beaming to her. Smiling broadly he scurried off a large notebook clapped under his arm. Yawning enthusiastically she moved towards the glass doored elevator. Another day just like the other. Grumpily joining men and women of all ages in the elevator the doors closed before sweeping them upwards. Some holding piles of papers, others looking just as fatigued as she feels with a warm cup off coffee in there hands.

Shuffling out of the elevator on the third floor, young excitement sped the young ones forward to find there places. Tables scattered threw out the large open space, housed monitors, piles of papers some scattered and disarranged and others neatly stacked. The smell of fresh coffee and ink filled the air, the sound of pens scratching paper and the tapping of keys filled every ear willing to listen. The walls filled with colored papers tacked randomly, large windows looking out across the street to the building apartments on the other side. On the far wall is an old couch pressed up in between the small fridge and table housing four coffee machine. Over top of the couch is a large clock projected on the wall ticking silently.

Walking around papers that scattered on the floor from over flowing desk. Suzanne found herself slumping so forward in her chair, her face rested inches away from the desk, her screen glowing a blinding white. “Writers block?” A happy voice asked holding a cup of fresh coffee under her nose. Two sugars, one milk just as she enjoys it. “Thanks Tara. I've just -” Suzanne sighed in great defeat. “I'm just struggling” she admitted grumble sipping the burning liquid, ignoring her tongues protest. “Poor poor Suza.” Tara giggled, her bright rainbow hair flowing freely around her cute face lined with colors. Her clothes mismatched, making her appear as if she had been dropped in a gum machine. The sound of a distant phone sounding unanswered made Suzanne cringe her teeth as her throat burst, her tongue feeling like it had swollen twice the normal size from the burning coffee. “Want Eric?” Tara asked squeezing the multicolored elephant plushy in her arms. “Er... no thanks.” Suzanne declined, much more liking to stick with her coffee. Pouting like a seven year old child, Tara scurried off to her desk bright with multicolored papers and objects covered her workspace. How she got anything done with all the bright distractions is above Suzanne to guess.

Settling in her chair, before sifting her weight once more for good measures. Finding her headphones to her iPod nano 4th generation under a stack of papers she had forgotten all together what she had scribbled onto she settled to start working.

Moments passed.

Nothing filled the blank pages before her. The third floor slowly starting to empty but in her gloom Suzanne did not notice. Her third cup of coffee rested on the corner of her desk frozen cold with the empty mugs of the two others before. Huffing, her creativity seeming to leak its way out of her. Suzanne pushed to her feet in despair, wanting to write so much eating away at her but it seems her fingers can only float over the keys without as little as typing one word.

Retreating towards the elevator to leave with nothing done, the idea of standing in the building with procrastination weighing heavily down on her. No words finding its way to her ideas that flooded her mind to the point of threatening to bust. Suzanne feels as if she has spent the last 24 hour cramming math into her brain just to sit before the exam with a mind more blank then before. With a heavy sigh she stepped into the elevator questioning the time and if she had missed something earlier on when she was bruting in her own misfortune. Descending from the third floor that usually housed minimum around 30 people threw out the days and at odd hours but now rested bare with only the smell of coffee and ink from the printers to remind that there once always had life in it. Leaning heavily against the wall, her eyes shut close she waiting to descent to the first level to escape to her small house that seemed more of a second hand bookstore then anything a proper little bungalow. Words scattering wherever she goes.

Stepping out blindly from the elevator nothing in the world seeming to cheer her up. Writer's depression a great downfall she can not seem to hit the bottom off. Movement caught her attention, the elevators door closing with a ding behind her. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A roar deafened her making her stagger back in surprise. Her arms lifting up as if to fend off a beast she fears so much about she whimpers to know what it truly is. 'Birthday...' she thought in confusion, her eyes roaming over all the bright faces of everyone ready to cherish a moment Suzanne knows nothing about. “Another year has gone by and the end doesn't seem to be in sight.” Someone announced, everyone cheering cheerfully. Her heart fluttering almost leaving her body as she opened her mouth to speak in gasping words. “How – what? This is amazing.” She said, everyone laughing and finding her amazement brilliant. The writer's bug flying around dizzily overhead. Another year has truly gone by and the years gift keeps giving. The best gift you can give to some one – the gift of writing.