I banged the keys of the small, toy piano in frustration; I had broken it. I stared at it for some time after, memorizing the dancing animals jumping around the tiny, plastic object. I removed it from my lap, finding that I was in a mood to write. Now, this was rare. I was usually never in a mood to write, even though I loved doing so. I had to be in a certain mood or else I wouldn't write quality pieces. I started, writing whatever came to mind first.

After writing only two sentences, I glance at the sad, broken piano. I turned it on again, hoping it would work. And to my surprise, a single note played. A small smile etched itself onto my face; at least something in my life wasn't broken.

I turned back to my notebook, feeling myself becoming lost in the words.

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My pencil broke at the furious pace I was writing. After hours of writing, my handwriting had become sloppy; it was barely legible.

The lamp sitting besides me flickered, then ceased working, enveloping me in darkness. Glancing at my clock, i found it was a few hours before dawn.