The cursor flashes in an unnervingly steady rhythm, punctuating the end of the same sentence over and over.

The previous paragraph had taken too long to write; and, if that wasn't frustrating enough, I already know most of it will have to be edited out. I let out a sigh, loud and unfiltered.

The dog, who has been napping by my feet, stirs awake. She places her head on my lap.

"Time for a break?" I ask her.

She wags her tail and whines.

I lead her out to the yard. Breathing in the fresh air and watching her inspect the tree, the next words finally come.