81. Depression Dreadful. Wretched. Awful.
All of those nasty words were how she felt. She laid in her bed at home, wand in hand, trying her hardest to conjure even a single butterfly and failing. She ought not to be trying to practice magic at home anyway, but she was, so HA. She was giving the middle finger to the man.
Sighing heavily she tucked her wand away and rolled over pulling her knees up to her chest. Her eyes fell on one of their holiday photos and the tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to break it, but could not.
Last edited by Erindipity; 01-03-2012 at 01:52 AM.
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