It pulsed beneath her fingers, she held it tighter, waiting for it to strike. Waiting for the pressure to ease and something to flow out. To flow out of her mind onto the waiting keyboard.
A living entity, given life by her imagination, a succubus of hope and fear, caught within the trappings of hardware and mental blocks.
It pressed against her temples, clenched her jaw and tightened her fingers. She sighed and began to type.
The words stammered and stumbled out into the blinding light of the monitor. They huddled anxiously, awaiting judgement. Naked to the harshest critic of all, they waited to see if they would live or die.
As they piled up, creating meaning and message, the pressure eased and the walls lowered. The words began to flow as they should, with thought and care, treading carefully into their new life, beyond the confines of her mind.