I sat at my desk in the office staring into space.  Business was slow and there were very few people coming in with appointments which meant I had next to nothing to do.  I had already been out for Mr Hart's morning coffee and the rest of the day was looking very bleak.

I looked at my computer screen, checking my e-mails every five seconds to see if there was life beyond the four walls I was trapped in but according to my inbox there wasn't.

Then I realised this was the perfect moment for me to do some more writing.  I checked that no-one was watching and opened up a word document to start something new.  But nothing came.  My fingers stayed poised over the keys but I had nothing to type.  Then I remembered what I had written that morning.

'Of course.'  I said to myself as I rummaged around in my bag trying to find the piece of paper I had absentmindedly scribbled on.  I found it, creased and slightly torn, at the bottom of the bag, the pen I had used was sitting next to it.  I looked at my ending and didn't even have to think about what to write next.  I took a wad of lined paper from my desk draw and began hurriedly writing.

I was shocked at how well I could write, this was so much better than anything I'd written before.  Unfortunately that wasn't to last.  I had just finished my fifth page of A4 when I heard a coughing from in front of my desk.  Looking up I saw Mr Hart looking down at me, a disapproving look on his face.

'And this is?'  He looked at me expectantly, probably looking forward to what excuse I would make uop this time.

'Well... it's...'  I couldn't think of a suitable lie, so took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth.  'I've started a new book and this is my first draft.'  I bundled together the pages I had written and held them out to him.  He looked down his nose at the pages, a cruel smile on his face.

'I would appreciate it Miss Burn, if you did your writing elsewhere, when you are not meant to be working.  Is that understood?'

'Of course sir, it won't happen again.'  He nodded sharply and turned to leave.

'Can you get me the notes for the Marshall case and put them on my desk.  I'm going for an early lunch.'

'Yes Mr Hart, of course.'  I stuck my tounge out at him and went to rifle through the filing cabinet.  'Marshall... M....'  I found the relevant file and put it on Mr Hart's desk.  I hated my job!  The sooner I could write a best selling book and escape from here, the better.

I looked at the last thing I had written and scribbled another sentence to finish off the chapter.

It was finally his chance to be something better.

The End

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