He stared at the theater stage without really looking at it.
It was lunch-break, mop and bucket by his side, the pine smell barely noticeable anymore.
His colleague Jacques talked about his retirement plan – an older woman with loads of cash.
Stephen could see it play out in his mind:
- The stage.
- The bucket.
- The red.
- The chaos.
“I have to go,” he said and stood up. “Can you cover for me?”
“Sure, something wrong?”
“No, I just something I need to do.”
Back home, Stephen sat down at his makeshift desk and wrote one word:
Carrie.
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I like this drawing. Not for the quality (obviously), but for the sense of him being so deep in thoughts.
After looking at it for a while, trying to find a story, I saw some similarities between him and my favorite author, Stephen King.
Mr. King used to work as a janitor before he got a publishing deal, and Carrie, his first book, was published in 1974.
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