Work Text:
In the serenity of a warm summer afternoon, there wasn’t an ounce of commotion—except for one restless soul. He fidgeted with the individual grass blades, dissecting them in his fingers. It hadn’t even been a minute before boredom clawed at his brain, as if trying to pull it right out of his skull.
He refused articulation as if his execution would be imminent from the acquisition of recognition caused by his own currently bated breath. Neither a complaint nor a sound came from him as he stayed in silence, simmering with ideas that he hoped would quell his boredom. But as of today, creativity was a department left barren; no availability for his whimsy—not even for the faintest of moments.
He leaned back, cupping his hands over his face; he slid his hands down until they were perched upon his nose bridge, letting out a huff of exasperation. He got up and paced, trying to conjure any idea that had the chance to dispel both his building exasperation and the lethargy that he had desperately immersed himself in subduing.
Eventually, the young man got up. He realized that simmering in his exasperation wasn’t going to fix his current predicament—if anything, it would only serve to amplify his growing indignation at his lack of routine ingenuity. So with that, he finally spoke, dusting himself off.
“I know what I’m gonna do today!”