He stopped at the doorway just long enough to adjust the dimmer on the lights. The room barely lit with the soft glow of his monitor, he sat down, setting a glass of red wine to his left and an almost spent, smoldering cigarette to his right.  With his hands sadly prostrate on the keyboard, he closed his eyes, wondering what he could possibly write that would make a difference in a life so far away.  How could he muster words of encouragement when his own soul was in need of a gentle touch of hope?  No words tonight, my friend, for tears fall upon…ooooooh.

And this shall be a remembrance for all time, that one man who struggled for literary eloquence and social significance has this night been reduced to one single letter, whispered in the darkness.