Months he hadn’t put pen to paper.

Nothing to say?

No wish to say anything?

Nothing to write about?

He had written all he had to write?

At 3pm he left the multi-storey car park, crossed the shopping mall and walked into an

expensive /

minimalist/

arty /

designer /

furniture store and in their

expensive /

minimalist/

arty /

designer /

craft cum paper cum stationery department,

He bought an

expensive /

minimalist/

arty /

designer /

notebook.

At 3.10pm he left the shop and crossed the mall to an

Arty

Hipster

Bookshop

Coffeeshop,

All expensive sounding coffees served up in homely mugs to arty hipster bookshop coffeeshop types lolling round all laptops on second hand mix and match furniture.

At 3.15pm, he ordered a «Milky Moka», sat down at an unmatching table and chairs, retrieved the

expensive /

minimalist/

arty /

designer /

notebook from his leather shoulder bag, uncapped his fountain pen and began writing a story about a writing blocked writer, who bought notebook and walked into a coffee shop, ordered a coffee and put pen to paper for the first time in months.

At 3;20pm a tall thin woman, glasses, dark, shoulder-length hair, black sweater, blue jeans, grey sneakers, walks into the toilet.

At 3.30pm the same woman walks out.

What has she been doing in the toilet for ten long minutes?

Speculation from our writer.

This could be the basis for a new story.

Is this really worth writing about?

The writer already has a working title

«The woman in the Toilet»

It sounds as intriguing as «The Girl on the Train»