An author loses his work
The phone rang. David gave a grunt of displeasure. He hated anything which interrupted his flow of thought. He’d made up his mind to change the ending to his story, yet again.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that last scene in his mind. Did it sound plausible? He thought it could work, but his wife had screwed up her nose when he’d told her. She was usually right, but…
The phone rang again. He decided to ignore its insistent ringing. It stopped.
David breathed a sigh of relief. It was probably his editor calling again to enquire when to expect the final draft.
Raising his eyes to the ceiling he returned to searching for those words, the perfect ending he was seeking.
The phone rang again. It must be urgent, he thought, and left off finishing the final edit to retrieve the mobile from the sideboard.
“Hello!” he barked.
There were sounds from a call centre somewhere, the Philippines or more likely, India.
“Good morning, Sir. I’m calling about your internet connection. It seems you have a problem?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my internet,” David shouted down the phone, “Will you people stop calling. Why don’t you get an honest job instead of attempting to rip honest people off?”
“I’m sorry sir,” the subcontinental voice continued, “will you please check your computer to ensure there are no problems?”
David automatically glanced over at his computer, where only minutes ago he’d been so near to completing the final edit on his latest novel. The screen was black.
Still holding his cell phone, he walked the few steps back to his desk and clicked a computer key expecting the page to open where he’d left off. Nothing.
“Are you still there? Sir?”
“Did you do something to my computer?”
“How could I have done such a thing, sir? The caller sounded affronted or even hurt.
“Well, my whole year’s work was open when I answered the phone,” David began to panic.
“Would you like me to take a look sir? “
“No! I’m hanging up. David ended the call and sat down at his desk and typed the title of his latest work in progress into his computer.
FILE DOES NOT EXIST
An hour later when David’s wife entered his office, she found him, his head in his hands, sobbing.
“I can’t find it,” he cried, over and over again.