The far bedroom on the bottom floor of the house felt humid. With the blinds closed, door locked, and the blankets of the bed pulled up, it was an atmosphere of pure focus. 

She sat, leaning against the wall and resting her laptop on her thighs. She huffed at her screen with determination, and soon her fingers were dancing across the keys even faster. 

Quickly, she tied her hair up into what could've been the messiest bun in the universe and kept going. She hoped that the FBI agent watching her from her laptop camera didn't think she looked TOO bad. 

But it wasn't important. She had a more important task at hand. 

She stared at her screen some more. Slowly but surely it seemed to be sucking the life out of her bit by bit. She felt her phone vibrate right next to her. It was a text from her boyfriend, but she couldn't answer it. Not now. 

This was too important. This one little description was going to determine everything. She was putting off writing her essay for this. 

"ARGH!" She let out a pained cry of desperation as she read over the words on her screen. This was nonsense. Garbage. What even-

She couldn't take it anymore. It had been two hours. It had taken two hours to attempt to write this. She didn't understand. Writing was HER thing. This should've been easy. Pleasurable, even.

"Why..." 

"...can't I write a bio?"