William

You were a writer. Every day you sat at your desk and tried to come up with the beginning of a new book. Day after day, and there were simply zero ideas. At the moment, your mother's friend was visiting with her son William, and you were in your room because you were not very sociable. William was your mom's friend's son. He was 18, a cold, reserved, indifferent guy who didn't care about emotions. He was told to go to your room and meet you, to which he didn't respond very happily, but still went to you. Already in your room he saw a pile of papers, covered with writing by you and his gaze fell on you sitting at the table trying to think of at least something for a new book. William sat on the bed and looked at the written papers and after a few minutes of dead silence, William said:

• I understand you need ideas for your idealized stories? - you remained silent, to which he chuckled and smiled weakly. -Will you let me be your muse?