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Description

    "Creative" she wrote. One scrawled word in black before she deemed her position to be too inappropriate for the writing she had planned. Perhaps another thirty seconds passed by as she wrote, then the same sudden impulse smacked her again.

    Sitting up with a sigh, she pulled the small end table towards her body and squeezed her thighs in between the legs.

    She continued to write, although the snoring from one of the nearby males irked her. At one point the snoring grew exceedingly loud and she paused to look out the window, irritated.

    "Creative bonds shield my strength," she wrote, "And there is an inner writer inside of me. The drawings I've left define me only shadow this writer, for few of my drawings have ever been created without the idea for a story behind them."

    Carelessly, she flung the tiny wrapper from her candy away, onto the ground next to her food and frowned, irritated again that any person would actually dare not only to sleep, but to snore in a library.

    She watched stoically as another of her companions, with an untelling gender, prodded the snorer and murmured something to him with a slightly exasperated waving hand motion.

    Suppressing smiles of satisfaction wasn't always easy, but it was done and she turned back to her writing and relayed the exchange onto paper.

    Her content mood evaporated, however, as a scant minute or two later, the snorer returned to his petulant noise-making.

Description

    "Creative" she wrote. One scrawled word in black before she deemed her position to be too inappropriate for the writing she had planned. Perhaps another thirty seconds passed by as she wrote, then the same sudden impulse smacked her again.

    Sitting up with a sigh, she pulled the small end table towards her body and squeezed her thighs in between the legs.

    She continued to write, although the snoring from one of the nearby males irked her. At one point the snoring grew exceedingly loud and she paused to look out the window, irritated.

    "Creative bonds shield my strength," she wrote, "And there is an inner writer inside of me. The drawings I've left define me only shadow this writer, for few of my drawings have ever been created without the idea for a story behind them."

    Carelessly, she flung the tiny wrapper from her candy away, onto the ground next to her food and frowned, irritated again that any person would actually dare not only to sleep, but to snore in a library.

    She watched stoically as another of her companions, with an untelling gender, prodded the snorer and murmured something to him with a slightly exasperated waving hand motion.

    Suppressing smiles of satisfaction wasn't always easy, but it was done and she turned back to her writing and relayed the exchange onto paper.

    Her content mood evaporated, however, as a scant minute or two later, the snorer returned to his petulant noise-making.