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After what seemed like hours, Brian got up from the bed and went to take a
shower. He felt more clearheaded after that and wearing only his jeans, he
sat down at the desk. Pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen from his bag,
he began to write feverishly, pouring out his heart and soul into the lines
he wrote.
The telephone rang, interrupting his self-imposed reverie. With a frown, he
leaned across and picked it up. Fifteen minutes later, he put it down with
a smile. Although he still hurt inside, a part of that pain was gone after
talking to his mother. The bond they shared had helped see him through many
emotional crises and this was no exception. Like the sunshine after the
rain, his mother cleared away his dark thought and she meant the world to
him.
Glancing down at the paper, he was surprised to see the number of lines
which were scribbled across untidily. He had accomplished more than he had
planned for. His stomach suddenly rumbled and he looked at his watch. With
a grimace, he noted that it was just after two. Standing up, he stretched
his limbs, which had become cramped as he sat in that tiny chair, writing
out his pain.
He opened his suitcase and picked out a clean shirt. Grabbing his wallet
and cell phone, he opened the door and headed out. For the first time in
days, he actually felt like eating again.
Outside in the warm sunshine, he took a deep breath. With his new haircut
and ordinary clothes, he was confident that he wouldn't have any problems
with any fans recognizing him. Striding down the sidewalk, he paused
occasionally to look into various shop windows. He was so engrossed at one
point that he did not notice a guy walking up behind him and the next thing he knew pain shot out and he blacked out.
The guy pulled him away by the legs, not seeing the cell phone on the ground.