Drabble: Pitch
title: Pitch
character: Dominic (implied unnamed pairing)
rating: PG
wordcount: 200 (double-drabble)
disclaimer: this is completely untrue.
note: Another drabble prompted by this word generator. The titles of these drabbles are the word I was given.
a/n: So instead of writing my NaNo fic, I write this...
Dom sat on the floor in the center of his bedroom, legs akimbo and several piles of clothes and papers surrounding him. The largest pile was the one by his right knee; it had a few bits of fabric near the bottom, but the old t-shirts were covered by an abundance of magazines, old newspaper crosswords, ripped up sheets of notes or printed text, and, at the top of the pile, photographs.
On his left, Dom had a small shoebox, one of many, and in it were stacks of photos and holiday and Christmas cards. He relocated the cards to a box he’d emptied earlier in the afternoon, but the majority of the pictures fell into the tallest mountain on his right.
After finishing the remaining shoeboxes, Dom found a large black bin liner and started to transfer the huge heap into it. The photographs, sorted last and therefore at the top of the pile, fell to the bottom of the bag. Dom tossed in the other papers and then, finally, the two ripped and worn-to-shreds shirts, then pulled the ties closed on the bag. Dom grunted softly as he lifted the heavy bag and pitched it into the trash.
character: Dominic (implied unnamed pairing)
rating: PG
wordcount: 200 (double-drabble)
disclaimer: this is completely untrue.
note: Another drabble prompted by this word generator. The titles of these drabbles are the word I was given.
a/n: So instead of writing my NaNo fic, I write this...
Dom sat on the floor in the center of his bedroom, legs akimbo and several piles of clothes and papers surrounding him. The largest pile was the one by his right knee; it had a few bits of fabric near the bottom, but the old t-shirts were covered by an abundance of magazines, old newspaper crosswords, ripped up sheets of notes or printed text, and, at the top of the pile, photographs.
On his left, Dom had a small shoebox, one of many, and in it were stacks of photos and holiday and Christmas cards. He relocated the cards to a box he’d emptied earlier in the afternoon, but the majority of the pictures fell into the tallest mountain on his right.
After finishing the remaining shoeboxes, Dom found a large black bin liner and started to transfer the huge heap into it. The photographs, sorted last and therefore at the top of the pile, fell to the bottom of the bag. Dom tossed in the other papers and then, finally, the two ripped and worn-to-shreds shirts, then pulled the ties closed on the bag. Dom grunted softly as he lifted the heavy bag and pitched it into the trash.