Page 85 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Quartet

For years, Harry believed that comprehending women was
enough of an accomplishment for any one man in the course
of a lifetime, and he wasn’t concerned about looking for where
his own feet grew; but by middle age he was consumed with
guilt over his inability to finish things. He wrote dozens of
stories, yet all but a few lay incomplete in a filing cabinet draw-
er. Even writing about it did no good since the process only
seemed to confirm what he already knew. Finally, when he
reached 50, he decided to give up writing and start something
new. He drew up a list that included some of his old fantasies:
TV weatherman, professor, journalist, demolition expert, chef.
None of them had the appeal of writing. No, the more he
though about it, the more Harry became convinced that writ-
ing was his only hope. It was the only thing he could keep at
and never, ever have to finish. He could write and write and
write and stop whenever he ran out of words. As his mother
said, “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.”

* * *

The phone rang. Harry was about to answer it, but he
changed his mind at the last second. He sat back and let the
phone continue to ring until it stopped. When the room was
quiet, he re-read all of what he had just written. When he fin-
ished, he smiled. All he had left were his thoughts. He had
nothing more to say, so he put down his pen and paper and slid
comfortably back into his chair.

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