Restoration
‘Fuck it!’ Blackie slammed her pencil down to the floor. She had been sketching for hours and everything was wrong. Her flow was now gone, the paper was a blur and her head was beginning to pound. She rubbed her throbbing temples as the pain shot through her skull, highly concentrated and precise, like a laser beam penetrating her brain. Fumbling around on her desk she searched for the bottle of aspirin amongst the tubes of paint, empty cigarette packs, pencil stubs, brushes, and soda cans,...