Fritter squinted at the thing waving around in front of his nose, trying not to get hit by it. The thing was held in Quince's hand as she waved it in front of him, ranting about Bear's antics. Technically, it wasn't Bear's fault. This was Fritter's reasoning as he plopped himself down on the neat stack of wood he had built for himself earlier that day, and pretended to listen. Eventually, Quince shut up and left, leaving the thing on Fritter's work bench with the expectation it would be fixed up before the swarms began for the day. Honestly, Quince was such a piece of work sometimes. Fritter sighed quietly, squinting after Quince's shrinking figure in the distance, and turned back to the thing she had left for him to deal with. Distractedly, he wondered why she had been complaining about her coat. Nothing had seemed wrong with it at all. He shook his head and turned his full attention, for the first time since Quince had shown up ranting, to the thing. Fritter grimaced at the thing as he leaned down and squinted at it. That Bear was much easier to deal with than Quince. Any day.
> 'Bear', 2016
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Spontanéité
Short StoryA collection of some bits and pieces of my written works. These bits and pieces weren't all spontaneous pieces of writing, though. They're descriptions of people, places and memories, and maybe they're short stories or other things. I don't know, it...
