"If that's the best you've got, that'll be fine," I read Isabel's text out loud to Ryan.

Without taking the extra second to think about how passive-aggressive that was, Ryan shrugged and said, "Well, it is the best we've got."

I nodded. "It sure is. And even though she doesn't have the same vision as us, she'll come around when she reads the final version of our story."

But as we stared at a mostly blank page, it wasn't a given that we would ever have a final version to give Isabel for approval. I swallowed a sigh and changed the font size to eleven.

"Is it just me, or did this used to be a whole lot easier when we were covering the football team and Corey?" Ryan asked before there was too long of a silence between us.

"It's definitely not just you," I replied as I put my face in my hands. "I'm starting to think that I've made a huge mistake in so many more ways than I originally thought."

"Layla, it's not a mistake. You listened to your heart, and maybe if you shut down your brain a little more, maybe it would help."

I blinked into my palms. "That's called being brain dead, Ryan."

He didn't respond to that right away, and when I looked up from my hands, he had nudged the laptop screen in his direction so he could see it better.

"This is like the episode of SpongeBob where he has to write an essay, but he takes hours on the word the," he said, probably more to himself than to me, then laughed. "I know you're trying to chase stories that are important, but maybe you should try to restart by writing something that means something to you."

"Courtney means—"

Ryan interrupted me. "I know her story means something to you, but you can't have that one. But if we're on the same blank page here, then you don't give two shits about these concrete canoes."

He had me there. I didn't give two shits about those concrete canoes. But at the same time, there wasn't a whole lot of stuff out there that felt interesting enough to pursue anymore.

I used to love writing, and now, it felt like a chore to just get something on paper. And how was I supposed to do it for my entire career if I was struggling so badly with it now?

How was I supposed to chase inspiration when the pursuit was more exhausting than any reward I got from it?

"Do you just want to take a break from this for now? Maybe we should get some tea and try again later," I said.

"We kind of have to get this done," Ryan said, but before I could try to convince him a little more, he shut the laptop. There wasn't any progress that needed to be saved, anyway.

Maybe we would find a little inspiration at the bottom of a cup of tea.

***

There were only twenty-four hours in a day, and when most of them were taken up by classes and working, it didn't leave a whole lot of time left to waste. Tea certainly wasn't a waste if it helped me figure out what to write, but chamomile must have been the wrong pick for that, because a nap was calling me much more than those stupid concrete canoes.

There had to be something interesting about them somewhere. I just had to find it before I gave up for the evening.

I typed up all the notes I had taken, and as I arranged them into a paragraph format, Ryan tried to find a picture where the entire team was smiling and had their eyes open. In a group larger than five, though, that was usually a huge ask.

"I guess this is the best one I have," he said and held the camera screen up to my line of sight. I rubbed my eyes and told him that it looked fine, even though I didn't really look at it.

"We can make the picture bigger than usual so you can write less if you want," Ryan said.

I didn't look up from the computer. "That doesn't help us hit a word count, though."

"Well, Isabel should probably give you a little bit of a break this issue. You always have the most content, the best content even, and you're doing the best that you can right now."

"I don't think hard work is rewarded like that," I mumbled, more to myself than to him. "I think I'm starting to get something going here. If we can manage to get through this, then we'll be golden."

There are still open spots on the team, so if you or someone you know may be interested, please reach out to Holly Sanderson or the physics club. I included her email address, and hopefully, the concrete canoe team would be able to find someone interested in replacing Courtney for their upcoming schedule.

I showed Ryan the skeleton outline I had going, and he read through it and looked back up at me.

"It looks good so—" he paused for a moment, "you look tired as hell."

"Thanks. It's the chamomile tea, I'm sure."

"Don't you still have to go home and help your mom with her medicine tonight?"

I nodded. "As long as you're cool with this, I'll finish it once I'm done with that."

"Don't worry about it. I'll finish this up so you don't have to," he said.

"Are you sure? It won't take long now that I have a plan—"

He cut me off. "I'm sure. Just do what you need to do and go to bed."

Either he suddenly decided that he wanted to compete with me for Isabel's job once she graduated, or he was trying to do something nice for me now that he knew about my family situation. I wasn't exactly in a place to be rejecting help, as much as it would usually bother me, with just twenty-four hours in a day.

"Thank you," I said. "And I really mean that."

"Don't worry about it. There's more important things in life than a college newspaper article about a concrete canoe," he said.

I sent him a copy of my bare minimum outline, and as I walked to my car to go be with my mom, I couldn't help but think about how much easier life would be if I hadn't moved over half an hour away from her for a dead end of a relationship. He expected me to come with him, and I did, both because of him and because I wanted to do it myself. It was fun and stressful at the same time, but where the hell had it gotten me now that it was all said and done?

The only place that high school sweetheart decision had gotten me was fucked up.

And now, there I was, relying on someone else to write a piece for me, and as nice of a gesture as that was, I couldn't make a habit of it if I wanted to keep moving up into my own office.

I unlocked my car, sat down in the driver's seat, and let out a sigh.

At least now I had someone who knew me well enough to care about what I had going on at home. I tried to keep that from happening, but it really wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. 

Maybe the chamomile tea was working on me, but it felt like a weighted security blanket to have someone like that. I certainly wasn't used to it, and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to be, but it was much more comfortable than I thought it would be.

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Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading! I know it's been a minute since my last update, but work has been too much as of late. What a time to be in environmental science!

So for today's question, what music platform do you use?

I'm 100% Team Spotify, and my Spotify Wrapped this year was absolutely fantastic. I finally got Big Time Rush to be my top artist after several, several years of trying. This has also been my top accomplishment this year.