This

The first thing she’d done after leaving her therapist that day was writing them down. The first, and the second, and then, this.

“What motivates you to write? Do you need an external push of any kind?”

“Well,” she stops for a moment, she really likes to stop when replying to her therapist’s questions. “I think the topics are mostly external, but the push — the need, it comes from the inside. When I had no topic for articles, I did short notes. I remember one summer month (out of an opera season) I was spending at the coffee shop writing about their regulars — notes, portraits. I just wanted to write, badly.”

“Why don’t you write now?” Always straight to the point.

“I don’t know.” That’s true. I don’t know. “I’ve recently caught a trolleybus and seen 2 stories in a few stops. The man couldn’t get inside before everyone else boarded. I wondered why. Was he afraid to be followed?”

“Why do you think he’s afraid of that?” She’s hunting for my fears, I guess.

“I mean it could be a mystery or a detective story — so many bizarre reasons could cause this behavior.”

“Ah,” sometimes the therapists are too cautious.

“And then there was a girl. Her watch has stopped and she was in a hurry. So she checked it every minute and then realizing it doesn’t work she checked the time on her phone. It was in the afternoon, but the watch showed 10:10 as it was a watch ad.
Curious stories, aren’t they? And yet, I haven’t got them written.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”