You were in a writing competition, where the last person still writing, wins. There was ten competitors, but within an hour, only two remained.

You, and a white haired boy next to you. He was writing furiously, feeling like his hand was going to fall off. Every so often, he glanced at you, who was writing calmly.

"Damn it, I don't know how you do it." He said quietly, continuing to write despite his cramping hand.