There I was, sitting at my desk. Light flowed through the windows, somewhere in the distance, the teacher slowly marched around the classroom. I was lost in thought, anxious to find something, anything that could help me. I gazed out the window watching the trees, still green with summer, ripple and sway as the wind blew through them. I spent minutes just thinking, idly watching as bubbles floated around the projection screen. I heard footsteps behind me, the room darkened, as if someone had just stolen the sun. The bubbles seemed to slow down as their joy was slowly sucked away. I heard a deep voice behind me,  “Gabriel.” I shivered knowing that anything I did wrong could lead to disaster.

“I see that you still have not got anything.” I slowly turned around, as I glanced up time seemed to slow to a standstill. There he was, towering over me, he gave off an imposing aura making everyone around him fall into submission.

I gulped, “I’m just not sure, nothing is coming to my mind.” He stared down as if he were looking into my soul.

“Alright,” he said, “just make sure you have something by the end of class.” He turned away, time seemed to return back to normal, the room brightened and the bubbles regained their enthusiasm.

At that moment, things seemed to become clear to me. I was able to see everything, all of the problems in the world, all of the people trying to fix them. I looked outside and saw the trees, not randomly swaying in the wind at all, but performing a dance, calling. My hands worked like lightning and my mind the storm, choosing every word carefully and laying it down in just the right space. The keys sounded like a metronome set to the fastest speed, click-click-click-click-click. My mind was racing, so many ways to say the same thing, which do I choose?  But every phrase I chose always seemed to be the right one and it fit snugly as if it had been waiting for this moment. As I neared the end, the feeling I had slipped away, it felt so sudden, as if I had gone blind or I had lost one of my limbs. Everything I saw, gone. As my sight vanished, so did my ideas.

My fingers felt as if they were made of stone. But time would not wait for my petty excuses and no matter how hard I tried I could never find the feeling again, of knowing, of seeing. As I continued my search, the due date drew near. Finally, it was due, I had to finish what I had started. Except every time I read it, something always felt off. But all things must come to an end. I published my work and I had a feeling, as if I had grasped something great and then let it go.