Each night, after strolling down the boardwalk Jack would return to his small cottage and write. Each night he would begin by sitting and staring at ...is laptop, a blank look upon his face, unsure of what to write. He’d just take a deep breath and write down that all-important first sentence of the day. Once he got that down, next came the paragraph and then the chapter. He knew he could write it, and he knew he would, it was just the little twinge of angst that every writer faced when they. "Speaking of which, do you need anything? Tuition? Lunch money?" I asked. "I seem to have this bank account that keeps growing and I don't know what to do with it." Do you think I don't pay myself?" she laughed. "Everyone in Casa del Fuego is getting a nice deposit this week. Everyone in the clan is getting their first payday. I bet the seniors go crazy when they find out." I'm meeting with Maggie after my humanities class this afternoon. When are you going home?" I get out at 3:20 today. Wait. More

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