Nothing.

Margie navigated to one of her favorite prompt sites. She knew it was organized by categories, each day having its own, but could never remember which day was what. So she just made it a habit to check everyday. Today held a wildcard clue. "No clue. Write about anything. What?" she said out loud.

Most days she would have been thrilled. The last week and a half had been unusual for her. Nothing outside of her prompt sites had inspired her to write. He brain ached, the synapses suddenly quiet. There was no internal chatter and to Margie, silence was painful. "Anything? Today you picked anything?"

She looked around. Her dogs were sleeping on their beds. The branches were swaying gently just beyond the window. She could hear bird songs and an airplane flying over head."But there is nothing," she said. She stared at her blank screen and began typing with no goal in mind, briefly explaining her thoughts and her sights.

It wasn't much of a post. Really, it was quite boring. But, it was accurate to what her brain could produce. Nothing. "All well," she sighed. "They can't all be gems." Margie posted her comment and vowed to write something better later that night.

*** Seven Days, Seven Answers ***