You lean back into your chair, taking a much-needed breather. You try to let your muscles relax, but they’re tense as always. You brush that off though--you don’t care. You’ve never been slowed down by mundane things like that before and by Celestia, you’re not going to now.
The rain comes down hard on your quaint little urban, Canterlot home, beating from the ceiling above. You find yourself thankful for your roof. Who knows what’d happen if all that water came pouring down on your books, your studies! A mess that would not only be physical in nature, but psychological, and on multiple levels. Ready and able, you take in another deep, hopeful breath and lift the paper up to your gaze again.
You instantly conclude that it’s trash. YOU are trash.
You shoot it off to where it truly belongs--in a can nearby. Seems you can’t even make an accurate shot. It’s no wonder you were never one much for sports.
>Pick up the paper ball and put it in the trash can.
>Check on the pouring rain from a nearby window.
>Pace back and forth like you always do.