I have nothing to say

I sit at work, just out of sight of the desk. No one is around this row of computers. The thinly veiled florescent bulbs hang heavy above my head; the artificial light raining down on everything in sight. I pull open a blank blog post. Close it. Open it. Write a word, a phrase, a paragraph. Delete it. I have nothing to say. I smell the harsh hand sanitizer that reminds me of the alcohol wipes used at hospitals to disinfect the flesh before the nurse pierces it with a cold needle. My stomach growls, and my feet are over warm in my furry winter boots. One minute to go. I've wasted an hour trying to get motivated for homework. This isn't boding well for the weekend.