Training My Thoughts.

Click, click, click, click!
His fingers loudly pound the keyboard, not missing one letter. His mind goes a mile a minute, and his fingers only carry him so fast. He couldn’t keep up with himself.
“Sh!” He hushed her and continued building his winding railroad for his train of thought. The pads of his fingers began feeling dry from continually pressing the same keys to form variations of words. A slow and soft pain formed in the joints of his wrists. He was sore, being hunched over for hours, typing away. He thought about shaking his limbs out to get blood flowing back to his muscles. He thought against it, he couldn’t risk a break.

Click, click, click!
The poor keyboard, only a few years old, it began to develop the symptoms of wearing. The color was slightly fading, the engraved finger prints from his incessant battering were almost visible.
“Um, Paul?”
He stopped, lifted his head from the computer, and looked at her.
“What are you writing?”
“I’m not sure, but I know it’s my masterpiece.”

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