I stood in front of the bathroom sink, writing with my pen. The ink was really runny, so I stood over the bathroom sink and wrote my story. It wasn't a good story, it was everything that the character was.
I made each letter perfect as my pen slid easily across the fine white paper. The ink dripped into the bathroom sink and down into the drain. A thought faintly popped into my head, Will I be drinking this ink later? I shook the thought out and continued writing.
I finished up my story with a smile and a few curly ques. I admired my piece of work. The red ink stood out wonderfully on the pale white paper.
I sat for a minute to let the ink run off and then I put the story into it's folder. No one would look at it until it was time to turn it in. I didn't want anyone stealing my idea.