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James stared at the empty canvas.
Sighing and putting the pen down again.
He hugged himself.
"...im getting to keen of it"
he murmered frustrated, he hadnīt been able to
do anything work-releated since that son of a bitch to John
walked away.
He was standing in his violet fluffy bathrobe, trying to get creative.
Though nothing had helped, he couldnīt get his mind off of what he
was longing to get.
With a annoyed hiccup he went to the kitchen, picked up one of the countless
bottles of milk and went outside. The neighbours dog was one sweet lad. And it liked a lot.
Otherwise he had to throw a lot of them out, not able to drink all of them...
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