A corporate woman in a fancy office.
Expensive furniture and cooling air conditioner.
She said, “You can’t let writing be your passion.”
The cooling air suffocated me and my soul dwindled.
I sat ready to give up my dream.
But my heart ruptured and bled literature.
I forgot everything monetary.
I smiled and told her I was too passionate to stop.
A fire in me was unleashed; now I set pages ablaze.