Word Count: 266
His editor had given him an extra week to finish up his latest project, a rare moment of generosity, so Shigure dutifully sat himself in his office. But he only rested his fingers against the computer keyboard and looked out the window, watching the raindrops splatter against the house. He closed his eyes and listened to the pattering of the rain.
Well, there was no use. How was he supposed to concentrate with all this noise?
Shigure lifted his hands from the keyboard. He walked out of his office and put on a jacket, grinning when Tohru gasped at his going into the rain.
“I’m going on an adventure,” he told her, winking. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back for dinner.”
But when he stepped into the open, the corners of his mouth turned down. His editor might have commented that he frowned out of guilt of neglecting his work, but this was hardly the case. Shigure wasn’t neglecting anything, for one thing. He just didn’t feel like writing about two people in love at the moment. Why should he anyway? Love was such a slippery thing, and the only way it had ever benefited him was in his novels, false worlds of fantasy. What good had love done for him in the real world?
But, work was work, and it had to be done eventually. But Shigure had an answer to that.
“Wrong weather for writing romance,” he asserted to himself as he walked. But as he looked at the clouds beneath the rim of his umbrella, Shigure found that even he didn’t believe it.