Little Things
"Takeru," Patamon called from his perch, "how are you doing?"
Takeru ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Patamon, on top of a nearby bookshelf, flapped his wings morosely in response. The blond author leaned back in his chair, putting intertwined hands behind his head, looking back at Patamon upside down.
"It's been a week, and my novel's still going nowhere," Takeru griped. "I'm just not feeling it."
There was a pause and a confused look. "Feeling what?"
"Nevermind," Takeru laughed.
Patamon looked worriedly at his partner. "I think you need something to distract you from your book, Takeru." Gliding down from the boo
I
made it (: