Blank

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 Blank


A blank page is staring at me.

     After what seems like hours, Blank says, “I have an itch. Can you scratch it with your pencil?”

“Where?” I ask him.

     “Upper left…but wait, it’s moving!”

“How about here?”

     “No, more in the middle.”

“Okay, did I get it this time?”

     “No, scratch harder.”

“Will this do it?”

     “This itch isn’t stopping!” 

“Why?”

     “It’s your itch to write. It never stops!”

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