Mr. Write [COMPLETED]

Chapter 19 - "Son of a sub diver!"

This chapter is dedicated to my silent readers! Woohoo! I love you guys! You're awesome! Thanks for supporting and reading this thing I call a book! You are the best!

(To readers who vote and comment, do not be jealous, I love you all equally. The silent people just know where it's at! (What does that even mean? Where what's at? What are we looking for.) Sorry got distracted, ignore me and go do what you do best, READ!!)

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The office was deathly silent. Cups of cold coffee sat on the table. Notecards, that had once been neatly organized, were in a chaotic mess. Balls of paper littered the floor. Lost notecards were dotted about, holding scrawled words that had been harshly crossed out.

Elliot sat slouched on the couch, glaring with a quiet intensity at the tatters of her story. She felt the last two days of working on the book had been equivalent to pushing a body up hill and having the person wake up half way and attack her.

The rational side of her brain was telling her to accept Beck's help and improve the story. The other half of her brain was telling the rational side to fight a ninja and die.

Elliot roused herself from her arguing thoughts and leaned over her knees, trying to decipher the chaos that was her book. After a long moment, where her glares caused nothing to burst into flames, she stood.

"That's it," she said. "We have to stop. I have to get out of this office, because I met your mother and for her sake, I don't want to cause her grief."

Beck looked up at her.

"I appreciate you refraining from my murder on my mother's account."

Elliot leveled him with an ice like glare.

"Do you want to call it a day?" he asked, glancing at his watch.

The day had barely slipped into the afternoon. Beyond the windows the shrieks of children's laughter as they played mixed with the sound of traffic.

"No, I just need to get out," Elliot said. "Come or don't, I do not care."

She grabbed her purse and left the office. It wasn't until she was on the sidewalk outside the building, that she noticed Beck had followed. Without speaking, they crossed the road and headed into the Common. The weather had lessened its oppressive grip on the city and the air was warm, the humidity levels bearable. Elliot let out a tired sigh, her shoulder's relaxing as the pressure of confinement and the sight of her story were left behind.

"Elliot," Beck said. "About the story-"

"Shut up Beck," she said, coolly, not even looking at him.

He fell silent and put his hands into the pockets of his faded red shorts. Elliot pulled a rubber band out and tied up her brown hair, relishing the breeze that tickled her neck. They walked beneath the canopy of trees, the branches stirring, as if they were whispering to each other and making observation of the people below.

Elliot cut across the lawn, picked a spot at random and sat down. Beck settled beside her, his arms resting on his knees. Elliot took a deep breath, releasing her pent up frustration. Beck looked over at her, but said nothing. After a long span of silence, she spoke to the air before her.

"Let's talk in hypotheticals," she said.

"If you like."

Elliot took in another deep breath, bracing herself as her thoughts formed words and dropped onto her tongue.

"Hypothetically speaking..." She paused for a second, as if it pained her to continue. "If I was to change a story that has been dubbed as shallow, fluff stuff." Beck grimaced. "How would I go about doing that?"