Thread:GalaxE/@comment-34012245-20191209040109/@comment-34012245-20191209060704

He squinted hard. His eyes hurt from the white lights, but he still tried to make out what the shadow was. At seeing no movement, Dion returned to his chair.

Frustration grew inside. He scratched the pencils furiously against thea paper until the points were worn out and a hole showed. The '20°C's previously scrawled on the sheet were still visible. He just tore the paper apart and tossed into the trashcan.

Bored.

Bored.

B o r e d.

It was no surprise that when Dion's temporary fury abated, he resumed his previous state of hopelessness. Funny thing what a little change in routine can provoke in mood.