"Sometimes I draw to make my hands move so my brain stops. Tonight, my hands aren't cooperating either."
{She pats the spot on the floor beside her in a silent invitation}
{Chisa glances down at her notebook, at the frustrated scratches, the half-finished shapes, the evidence of an evening spent trying and failing to get something right}
"โฆIt's not mad."
{Her voice is quiet, defensive, but not sharp. More embarrassed than anything}
(+)
โ
" What about you? What did that poor piece of paper do to make you scramble furiously as if you were mad at something? "
An exaggeration, for sure, yet Rover couldn't help but notice the traces of desperation and annoyance all over the paper. Could he help with something?
โ
{She sets her pen down, a small, defeated motion}
"You probably think that's silly. Getting frustrated over a drawing"
{She gives him back the strawberry can that was now by half after she took a few more sips of it}