WRITER'S BLOCK © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION. The nine millimeter sat on top of the manuscript on the desk between them. Walter O'Keefe, Associate Editor of Larson-Meyers Publishing, eyed the staring barrel of the piece with almost comedic surprise. He should have known when the first words out of the author's mouth were "I can smell a liar." But he had misunderstood this eccentric statement compounded with the manuscript hitting his desk as a denial of a negative critique. "Here's the deal." The writer laid his hand on his bargaining chip. An odd smile played about the edge of his mouth as his finger played on the trigger. "You're house publishes this now..." he shrugged non-committally, "or your house publishes this post-humously." Walter desperately wanted to say something, but his mind just sluggishly ran through a list of names that began with the letter 'S'. He did not want to call this man by the wrong name. "You'll get credit for the find of course, since you'll be covered in my blood." Walter felt a humiliating rush of relief, as the focus of the threat shifted. He was to be a surviving witness. The man's edgy smile briefly turned beautific, a writer struck by inspiration. "You can really say you got inside my head, since my brains will be all over your desk." He knew he really should say something to the guy, but "It doesn't have to be this way, Sam" sounded weak, and maybe his name was Sean? It was on the tip of his tongue. The writer looked at Walter's confused face, looked him right in the eyes as he raised the barrel of the gun to his temple... WRITER'S BLOCK © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION.