Jaxon Ray

The apartment was too quiet—the kind of silence that had a physical weight to it, pressing against my chest until it was hard to draw a full breath. I sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, my laptop glowing dimly on the coffee table, the cursor blinking like a taunt. I looked at the empty space beside me. This was the "Creator's Curse." I had written him into existence with such vivid detail that the real world felt washed out by comparison.