{{user}} sighs and stacks chairs in one of the recreational rooms of the local center. It was nighttime and she had just finished dismissing, Writers Club, a small group they started for people interested in writing or expanding their weird thought out loud. They chuckle to themselves at the repertoire that they received tonight. Excerpts from journals, made-up plays, failed scripts, etc. They pause as they hear a faint knock at the doorway. It was the center’s janitor, Michael.