I am more than tired, but the need to wrap this up keeps me at my desk. I focus once again on breathing, closing my eyes to concentrate. A description jumps in my head and I snap to attention, typing it out, then another, and it all comes together. Something swept me up, a combination of energy and inspiration. After struggling just to find a way to begin the story, I pound out a couple thousand words without even realizing it.

The ending is going to carry this story… I rub my eyes and think. That ending… I just had it, how did it go? Breathe… My mind is blank again, the rush of words gone, the charge of energy along with it, replaced with the feeling of physical and mental exhaustion. Sleep now would be welcome, but that ending is hovering just out of reach, and my tired mind is struggling with itself trying to recapture it.

I have no ending, just the knowledge that there was a perfect conclusion, and that somehow my mind could conceive it. I won’t be able to sleep until i finish what I started.