"Ah, I'm so glad you want to hear my story. It's from a long time ago, and it's one of my favorites. It goes like this:

"The summer before junior year, you made me a terrible promise:

"We'll work on writing together this summer!"
I was elated, and my hands shook the entire drive out to Amagansett.

I never considered myself a particularly creative person... no, that's not right, but I didn't think I was a creative person on the same level as you. I was always just trying to keep up, to aspire to your brilliance, and shine just a little more light on the world you made real to me.

We stood out in the warm night and watched thunderstorms roll in over the sea. When lighting stuck far out on the waves, you pointed towards it and then turned to me, an expression of wonder on your face.


This was going to be it, this moment of our profound mutual inspiration. Lighting strikes the sea. Such a grand, magestic image. This, this would inspire the summit of our mutual creation. This time, it would finally be real."

They stop talking, and when you look up at them, their eyes are closed.

"What happened next?"

"I have to leave..."