He is the one always brimming with ideas, the one who can spin yarns in a go, and keep me hooked while walking me through his many plots. And so, when he breaks down and tells me he can't write for there is no story he can conjure up, I can only look at him helplessly and ask, "But where have all the stories gone?"
He lifts up his head, looks me in the eye, and says with love, "They are now within you."
He lifts up his head, looks me in the eye, and says with love, "They are now within you."
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