Milton closed his eyes as the computer monitor’s screen went dark. He sighed expressively before loosing a resounding, “FUCK!”

In a peak of irritation he had disabled the auto-save on his word processor. Now the last six hours of writing had just been undone. Not undone. Gone. Gone in the same way that a fire-destroyed house was gone. The time and effort that went into it before it became a memory, couldn’t be retrieved. Wasted. Not to mention that, while he knew what his paper was about, the exact phrasing that had come to him was now gone as well. Something else might come to him- but it would never be perfect.

The young, college student wanted to throw a tantrum. In his mind he tipped the desk on to the floor like he was the Incredible Hulk, crushed everything in the room, and taken his anger outside where it could be observed. That wasn’t him though. He wasn’t aggressive. He was barely passive-aggressive ,and his slight frame could hardly move the heavy desk without help, much less tip it over.

“Fuck!”