A hurricane is coming, and they say this is the big one. The old man doesn’t have the time or energy to flee out of its path.
Instead, he goes out to his shed and sits among the manuscripts. They are his life’s work, consisting of thousands of poems, short stories, plays, and novels. Whatever struck his fancy.
He never shared his writing with anyone. It was his secret that he kept for himself alone.
He watches, briefly, as the winds rip down the walls and share his work with the world.
Posthumously, he is remembered as a hidden genius.

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