A childhood friend made me a business proposal that involves a fair amount of writing, on the same week I decided to resume the countless unfinished stories I’ve left abandoned inside a gazillion unfinished notebooks.
We meet up at a nice café by a park lake for the briefing and brainstorming and I tell him about how I’m battering myself up over my lack of discipline to finish what I start.
Suddenly, a lady walks towards our table and kneels down by my side.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘My pen fell and is under your chair.’
She picks it up, thanks us and walks away.
My friend smiles at me.
‘See? Even the pens are rolling away in your direction so you can write.’
Isidora Works 