InVinsybll
2 years ago1,000+ Views
The Creative Process
Marcus was sat in his regular chair in his living room, feet up on the coffee table in front of him, Macbook in his lap. He had a blunt in his right hand while his left hand lazily stroked the fur of his dog Mitri in the seat next to him.
Marcus' regular seat was a weirdly designed loveseat that was more like two armchairs smashed together into one unit than an actual loveseat. It allowed two people to sit next to each other but not too next to each other. He always sat on the right-hand seat, and Mitri always curcled up in the left hand one.
At the moment, Marcus was trying to write his magnum opus:
The white-blue smoke lifted from the cherry tip of the nearly-
extinguished cigarette, curling...
"Fuck! No, that doesn't work either." he grumbled to no one in particular. Mitri picked his head up and looked at his master, concerned.
"Smoke doesn't fucking curl. What does smoke do?"
The white blue smoke lifted from the cherry tip of the almost-out cigarette butt, spiraling up from the ashtray...
"Christ! That's not going to work, either. Smoke doesn't spiral, either," he groaned, "I need to get out of my own head, figure out how smoke works."
Marcus took his feet down from the coffee table and leaned forward. He put his laptop gently on top of the table and puffed heavily on the blunt, eyeing the smoke as it rose from the blunt's tip as well as the smoke he exhaled.
"Okay, okay. Mitri, I think I've got it this time!"
The white-blue smoke lifted from the cherry tip of the nearly-
extinguished cigarette, curling in hazy spirals from the ashtray crowded
with its fallen comrades...
"Perfect! I'm a genius!"
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