Is this REAL??
Oh yes. In an effort to get my writing going again, I've resorted to quickies. Working on my countless WIP's has hit a slump (believe it or not I actually have worked on them regularly) so let's hope this excercise helps.
YnM: Marriage (not what you'd think)
First thing he sees at work is Watari, exiting his laboratory with a sleepy smile and tangled hair, proof positive of another insomniac night working in a fit of inspiration. His owl is fluttering about, pecking his coat.
Before lunchtime he witnesses the patented Tsuzuki and Hisoka lunch squabble; who pays what, who's a bottomless pit, who's way too bony and that's it definitely no dessert today!
He's eating alone by his desk.
Before closing Terazuma has an accident. Wakaba sighs, pulls her fuda out and tames the beast. After that she quietly fetches cold water and some of her emergency cookies for him.
He takes a file folder home.
There, he places it on the kitchen table, brews a pot of tea, and sits down. He stares at the folder as if he'd never seen one before, then undoes the tiny clip holding together a five-page report. He knows the content by heart; seven sections, two charts, 1898 words altogether. The first word on page 3 is "unless".
The clip snaps from his fingers, and he suddenly realizes what's been bothering him about it.
Their relationship has gone stale.
Tomorrow, something completely different.
YnM: Marriage (not what you'd think)
First thing he sees at work is Watari, exiting his laboratory with a sleepy smile and tangled hair, proof positive of another insomniac night working in a fit of inspiration. His owl is fluttering about, pecking his coat.
Before lunchtime he witnesses the patented Tsuzuki and Hisoka lunch squabble; who pays what, who's a bottomless pit, who's way too bony and that's it definitely no dessert today!
He's eating alone by his desk.
Before closing Terazuma has an accident. Wakaba sighs, pulls her fuda out and tames the beast. After that she quietly fetches cold water and some of her emergency cookies for him.
He takes a file folder home.
There, he places it on the kitchen table, brews a pot of tea, and sits down. He stares at the folder as if he'd never seen one before, then undoes the tiny clip holding together a five-page report. He knows the content by heart; seven sections, two charts, 1898 words altogether. The first word on page 3 is "unless".
The clip snaps from his fingers, and he suddenly realizes what's been bothering him about it.
Their relationship has gone stale.
Tomorrow, something completely different.