She's pulling her hair.
She's wondering why.
She's banging her head against the cafe table.
She's been sitting in front of her computer for two hours, and all she ordered was a small coffee.
"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" asks the waitress, with a barely concealed snarl.
"Yes, I do want something else," says the NaNoWriMoer. "I want it to be over."
She leans over her keys.
She types some words.
She counts the words.
She realizes they are not enough.
They will never be enough. Not by November 30. Impossible.
She orders a mocha, hoping that will placate the waitress.
And help her come up with more words.
She wonders if she can find a way to write on Thanksgiving.
Or the day after Thanksgiving.
She wonders why they didn't pick a month with 31 days.