The FedEx truck pulled into my driveway, and two men struggled to carry an obviously heavy box. I opened the door, and they dropped it on the living room floor with a thud.
“What is it?” I asked, the sound still reverberating.
“Writer’s block, ma’am.” The men wiped their sweating foreheads.
“Wha—a writer’s block? I didn’t order that! Take it back!”
“Sorry, lady. We just deliver ‘em.” With that, the men left.
I stared at the box. A writer’s block—how ridiculous. Kneeling to remove the packaging, I found that I couldn’t budge the thing at all.