The feeling of boredom consumes me as tinkering with puppets has gotten repetitive. I stand up from my table, sighing. I flop onto my creaky-metal framed bed while staring at the ceiling. After an agonising few minutes with my own thoughts, I let loose a loud groan of irritation

Suddenly, I hear a soft knock at my door. I raise an eyebrow. I walk over and open it.

“What?”

I say with an agitated and bitter tone. I’m clearly not in the mood for visitors…