Marvin and his cursor

Life is more than—no. Life is like—. More than just living, living life is like—. Marvin sat in his dull apartment staring at the blinking cursor. “There’s got to be something in here.” He thought as he rubbed his temples. He placed his hands on the keyboard, took a deep breath, then shut off his computer. “It needs an update anyway.” He justified. 

Marvin lived a simple life. Everyday he’d get up, have his routine coffee, then write for at least a thousand words before going to work. On his days off, like today, he’d write for two. “Thirty-four minutes in.” He thought. “And nothing to show for it.” His phone rang. It was Jessica, his co-worker at the library. She was cute, but she always called at the wrong time. He was either writing, reading, or outlining what he’d write next. He didn’t have time to talk. Not now. Maybe after he got his word count in.

Marvin booted up his computer to check out the new updates. As he waited for the system to reboot, he noticed it was taking longer than usual. He did what every IT guy is taught to do, and turned the machine off and on again. The screen didn’t come back to life after a few tries.

“I’ll have to take it to the store, hopefully they’re open today.” He put his computer in his backpack and grabbed a notepad. “Just like Tolkien,” he thought, smiling to himself. 

On the train, he tapped his pen against his mouth, observing all the passengers. “Maybe I can write a story about a baby,” He thought as he noticed a young mother of two. “Too dark.” He told himself as the true-crime podcasts flashed in his mind. Life happens when you are too—“Wait. Isn’t that from a movie.” He scratched out what he’d written. The best way to live life is—. “I should get off here. I always get lost at the next terminal.”

While brainstorming on his walk to the computer store, Marvin admired the charming city park. He loved looking at the flower beds and watching the people feed ducks. He considered himself a people-watching-birds-watcher, but not today. Today, he needed to reach his word count.

Sale. Today only. Don’t miss it. He began to jot down any word he saw, grasping for whatever inspiration he could find. He wrote down 20 words that way before coming to the computer store. He loved going there. Sometimes, when he got off early, he’d walk in to check out the new tech. He knew he couldn’t afford it; not with a librarian’s wage, but with a famous, published author’s wage, maybe. 

He dropped off his computer and left, keeping his head down, avoiding any eye contact with the gadgets and gear. He couldn’t afford any distractions while working on his masterpiece. He bartered with himself; if he could get his word count in before his computer was ready, then he’d come back and browse for an hour, or however long he’d like. He sat at the coffee shop, sipping his frothy beverage, scribbling lines on his notepad. “That’s it!” He thought as an idea flashed into his head. As he turned over the next page, black nonsense from the previous misadventure greeted him. He flipped through page after page. He didn’t have a single clean sheet left. He grasped for napkins at his table. Ideas flooded into his head. Life—. His pen tore through the napkin. He grabbed another. Life is like—. Again, his pen ripped through. “My phone!” He thought as he reached for his device. He typed and swiped for an hour, surpassing his daily word count by two-hundred and four. 

Satisfied, he leaned back in his booth and thought about the rest of the day he’d have. Maybe he’d stroll the park. Maybe he’d order himself a cookie. They made an amazing red-velvet cookie here. It was the perfect amount of crumble. Maybe he’d call back Jessica. He turned his attention back to the glass screen, and his face went blank. All his work, gone. Every line, every comma, erased. He opened every app, went through all his history. It wasn’t there. 

He climbed back onto the subway, head down, not even looking at the clown handing out balloons. All that circled in his mind was getting back his computer, and hoping the bill wouldn’t be too high. As he approached the store, he could see from a distance the lights going off. He’d taken longer than he thought at the coffee store. He came across the locked, glass doors and could see the workers retiring for the night. He sighed and rested his head on the front door. His phone was at six percent; just enough to check his emails on his way home. In his hand, his phone buzzed. It was Jessica calling.

Since it was now impossible to write in the dark, and he had nothing to write with, he may as well answer, he thought to himself. “Hello?” He mumbled, not really invested in what she had to say. “Come over?” The rest of the conversation felt dizzy. She mentioned something about dinner and some kind of deal.

Feeling silly, underdressed and a little defeated, Marvin found himself knocking on her door. She let him in with a warm welcome. Her house was well lit compared to the dark glow of the city. She spent several hours arranging the right decorations in perfect harmony, and none of it was lost on Marvin. He took in every detail. The night passed by in laughter and cheer, topped off with the best Shepard’s pie he’d ever eaten. Dessert, he thought, was meant for royalty, not a humble librarian like himself. As the hour hand approached twelve, Jessica’s face grew solemn and Marvin was struck with unbelief. “I’ve enjoyed reading your prose.” She began. “You probably didn’t know this about me, but I’m a small-time publisher, looking to grow my business. I think your work would do well in this market. Is there anything you’re working on right now you could tell me about?”

Marvin’s thoughts went from a spin to a spark. He laughed at the irony of it all as today’s events echoed in his mind. “There’s always work to be done,” He began. “But there’s more to life than just work.”