Young Man and the Cup

It was the twelfth hour. The young man has yet to write a single chapter in his book. The hours that had passed by were only minutes. He had squandered his time watching videos and looking at the latest blog post. There on his word processor was only a single word. Rain. Hours earlier he felt inspired by the weather. He thought he could go in his house and start typing a new story, but he was wrong. He sat there for hours doing nothing productive. It didn't help the young man that his self made deadline was about to be passed again. The man never really kept to his own deadlines. He felt no shame, but it still hurt him internally. The young man sighed. Then he looked at his cup that was placed on his desk. It was empty. He remembered that he had brewed coffee hours earlier. He got up from his chair and went to the coffee maker. There was a full pot of coffee waiting for him. He smiled. He looked at his cup then back to the coffee pot. He thought for a moment then placed the cup on the table next to the coffee maker. The young man took the pot of hot coffee with him back to his desk. He put a small towel on his desk and then the pot. Miraculously words began to appear on his word processor. At the same time the coffee pot began to drain. A few hours later and he had finished a page of words. The sun then rose revealing a sleeping young man next to a empty pot of coffee.