Rachel’s eyes drooped as she drove down the road. Her head was swimming. When she noticed her car swaying toward the other lane, she knew she had to pull over. Her car coasted down the off-ramp and drifted into a parking lot. She closed her eyes as her head drooped.
HONK!
She bolted upright. She’d hit the horn with her forehead. Staring around as the panic ebbed, she noticed the nearest building. “Writer’s Block Clinic”. That could solver her problem.
The waiting room was quiet and cool. An older woman held a notebook in one hand, but she was gazing around the room. Fascinating, Rachel thought. What quirky earrings. She took out her own notebook and scribbled down a few thoughts. Then she approached the receptionist.
“Writer’s Block?” the woman asked.
“Yes, please,” Rachel answered.
“Sit there until we call your name.”
Rachel found a seat. A middle-aged man came in with a pair of giggling teenagers. Their conversation was fascinating–Rachel hoped they didn’t notice her taking notes. Several women sat in a corner, phones up, lost to the real world.
The receptionist called her name. Rachel walked over. “I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’ve got stories repeating in my head over and over all night long. Please, how do I block them?”
©Christie Powell
