Finding time when you have nothing but...

He sits, secluded at his desk.

The ashen radiance of his computer monitor converts his already pale skin to an almost flat white.

Thin red veins erode the edges of his eyes and his fingers curl as if they're holding a tennis ball, the tips brushing the the alphanumeric keys beneath.

Nervously his right leg bounces up and down in an erratic cadence, keeping time with the gratuitous firing of synapses playing out within his skull.

To an outside observer he may as well have been in a prolonged and inescapable bout of writers block- but, deep in the recesses of his mind he was burning through idea after idea.

So many things, so many thoughts, so many inner dialogues were playing simultaneously that his external shell, all but the leg, had frozen-

He forgets to breathe. His racing mind comes to a halt when the brains stem takes control and forces a breath into his lungs.

Mildly embarrassed by the little grunt he let out, he looks about the room.

He's alone.

He finds the clock in the corner of his screen- work had been over twenty minutes.