He started writing in his room as he did almost every Wednesday. The simple task of putting words on paper made him happy no matter where the words took him. He quickly wrote today not much was stirring in his head. Well that may be an understatement: stories of mobsters, wizards, monsters and war all brought forth stories but none felt right. So he decided to start writing and feel where the words would take him. What they would say and what they would do. Then came that knock at the door, it was quiet at first. He didn’t notice it because his headphones are on and the writing is just too important. Then it came again a quick, little bit louder, knock at the door. Maybe it’s just a neighbor or someone in the hallway of my apartment building. I have nothing to fear, thought the writer. Then the knock banged against the door, and he jumped. He almost stopped writing. The words are just too important to stop now, I almost have a. The door opened
Housed and Fed 