Nate B Quill

Lying in bed, scrolling through your gallery, occasionally switching to Instagram to see if the wifi has come back yet. You scroll and scroll, your laptop still just barely within reach. The notebook filled with poetry just an arm’s length away. The pen clicking just within earshot. The canvas ahead with paints unused. You scroll and scroll, and eventually, the keys of your piano go stiff, the laptop now dead, the paints dried up, the pen lost somewhere. It takes you a while, but you look over your shoulder eventually, to realize it all disappeared long ago. Finally, you make a change. You swipe up, and open up YouTube instead.