He clicked save, stood up stretched and then sat back to reread. Something about the story seemed familiar. He went through his archives, half-written notes, ideas scribbled on napkins, full stories charted out the backs of menus. After a brief search, he found it. The exact same story, same words, same length as something he’d written three months ago.
He deleted the most recent and wondered if he was stuck in the same place. He tried to think back three months and could barely remember what happened three days ago. The kettle whistled and the dog scratched at the door.