Myra was running out of stories to tell as her creativity becomes an impossible orb that she can’t catch. Once, she renowned the image of an empty page because it was a portal to the world trapped inside her mind. Her fingers would swiftly move across her keyboard as word after word came out. Now, however, her fingers ache from writing words that went nowhere. The characters in her award-winning book series are now forever trapped in the purgatory of her mind.

Her fans were tired of waiting as ten years have passed since she published her last book. There was a time when her books were on every bookshelf where they were read over and over until their wear and tear appearance encouraged readers to buy another copy. Now, her books were stuffed in bargain bins covered in dust and left untouched.

She stretches her fingers out and moves her neck till she hears a sharp crack. She’s sat in this chair for so long she is melded to the cushion. The room is darker than she remembers as she looks over to the window and sees that it’s night. A sigh escapes her as she thinks to herself about how another day was wasted. She moves to get up and is met with difficulty but reaches for her cane to make the transition easier.

Standing now, she pushes back the chair and moves across the room to leave her office. Once out, she’s in a hallway covered in pictures that documented her successes. At one time, passing them by brought her joy but now it felt bittersweet. As her creativity had failed her the years have come and marked her face as it moved. She wonders how much time she has left and fears her last book will remain unfinished. Her head drops as a disappointed breath leaves her.

A knock coming from the front of the house takes her away from her thoughts. She moves towards the front door. Before she opens it, she peeks out the peephole and sees a stranger staring back at her. She considers leaving the door unanswered but her house is too far of a distance to leave someone stranded so she opens it.

“Hello,” a woman greets her and she responds with a nod. “Do you have a jumper cable?”

“This is private property,” Myra says in a harsher tone than she intended.

“Sorry, I know, I’m trespassing but this is where the bluebirds migrate and it’s kind of a tradition so—“

“You’ve trespassed before?”Myra says back a bit furious.

“Could you please just jumpstart my car so I can get out of here?” The woman begs.

“It should be in the toolbox in the kitchen.” Myra replies, opening the door. “Come in.”

She moves back and the woman walks in. The woman spots her cane and concern washes over her.

“It’s okay, I can get it myself if it’s too difficult.”

“It’s not difficult at all,” Myra replies back a bit annoyed by the pitying look in the woman’s eyes. “Besides, I need the exercise.”

The woman just nods and follows after her as they both head toward the kitchen. Before they reach it, she hears the sound of things shifting. Turning around, she sees the woman touching items inside a box that she left on a table in the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

A guilty look appears on the woman’s face as she steps away from the box she was looking through. The box was full of old copies of Myra’s books and the stranger’s eyes kept straying back to it.

“Are you a fan of the series?”

“Huge fan!” The woman practically screams. “I see you have a limited edition of the ninth book in the series and the eighth, seve—“

“Yes, every limited edition copy of the entire series is inside there.”

“Ahh, that’s so cool! The limited edition is so rare and hard to find especially with only the mass paperback copies now being the only editions available.”

“That’s why it’s called limited, dear.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I’d never thought I'd see it in person!” She says with enthusiasm. “It’s like Myra Meadows is in the room with us. You know she signed these!”

“I’m aware, but why so much enthusiasm for her?”

“When I was younger, I struggled with depression and these books were the friends I needed at the time. I don’t think I could’ve made it through high school without them, “ she says, getting a bit emotional as tears brim her eyes. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy but her books just mean a lot.”

“But she hasn’t finished the final book in the series. Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll never know how Courtney’s story ends?”

“I survive on a steady diet of fanfics so I think I’m good.” The woman replies. “In my head, Courtney Waters’ adventures never have to end.”

“What’s your name?”

“You’re going to laugh but it’s Courtney.” She says, giggling. “Yet another reason I find Courtney Waters so relatable.”

“You could have those books, Courtney.”

“Really?” Courtney says with a wide smile but then shakes her head. “Wait, I couldn’t these are yours.”

“I’m Myra Meadows, dear. And those books in the box are just extras I don’t really need.”

“Your Myra Meadows?” Courtney says, her jaw-dropping. “Like the Myra Meadows who hasn’t been seen in years?”

“Yes, the very one.”

“Wow. I met Myra Meadows!” Courtney shouts. “Can I take a picture with you?”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah the whole reclusive author vibe thing you’ve got going on,” Courtney says with a nod. “I respect it.”

Myra motions for Courtney to follow her to the kitchen and she gives her the jumper cable from her toolbox placed on the counter. Courtney leaves with the jumper cable and the box full of books. Alone by the door, Myra feels her creativity spark once again as she remembers why her stories mattered.