The blank page stared back at him like a deserted puppy, whining and jumping for attention. It glared at him, challenging him, almost daring him, to ruin its vast, perfect whiteness.
After putting pen to paper four times without making a mark, he finally gave up and, leaning back from his desk, stared of into space hoping that inspiration would strike. Waiting, praying, silently begging for an idea, any idea, he sat, gazing off at nothing.
An hour later, he gave up, stood with a sigh, and walked away, crumpling that paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash, intimidated once again by the pristine beauty of that simple sheet.
