Apr 1, 2014, 2:37 PM

The Artist 

  Prose » Narratives
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     Six months of work had finally paid off. Jackson put the phone on the desk and leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair. He couldn't believe what had just happened. The conversation was going over and over in his mind. He couldn't forget the voice of his publisher, telling him the great news.

     Jackson stood up and started walking back and forth with a slightly hidden smile. His bedroom was dark, the only light was coming from his desk lamp, lighting up his old grandfather's typewriter. On the right, there was an almost empty cup of coffee leaving circles on the blank sheets underneath. The room was covered in dirty clothes. For six months Jackson had been writing day and night. He hadn't eaten for two days and finally his book was approved and published. The only thing he could do was wait for the reviews. Jackson laid back on his bed and looked at the sheet where he had started his new book. Looking at his future, he fell asleep for the first time in days.

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