Nothing, her mind was blank. The screen started to blur, and she was sure that she was finished. Her reputation ruined. There was no way that she could finish before deadline. Her editor would stroke out at the mess she had made.
What was that sound? It wasn’t the usual noises of children, checking the clock she realized it was far too early for them to be coming home.
Listening closer she realized these were screams. Horrified, tortured screams; should she call the police? They’d want to know what she was up to, they always did.
The screams, they were coming from the television producer’s apartment. He must have a dozen manuscripts in there. What if one of them held a clue to her problem?
The idea began to form slowly, the execution must be perfect.