And then there were no more words. All writing stopped and the world took a pensive breath. Soon the accusations flew. The right, left, and center blamed each other on their frivolous use of such a precious commodity. Large documents were written by scholars about the lack of words and what that meant for society. Talking heads spewed countless hours of drivel about the cataclysmic problem. Entire books were devoted to finding the solution to this disaster.
All hope was lost. Shut off the lights, it was time to just give up. There was nothing left to see hear.
She threw her pen down in disgust and went to bed, frustrated beyond belief.
The next day when she picked back up her pen the words spring out, and the world was saved. Millions lived, some of them died, but the words went onward.
So goes the life of a writer.