Submission (#5504) Approved

SOLAR FLARE
Word count: 581

Grimm’s sensors let out a quiet, hissing creak as he stared, aggravated, at his computer screen. The no internet symbol in the bottom right corner of his screen had sat taunting him for the last few hours, as he struggled to open any websites whatsoever that he held as his one connection to the outside world. Error after error after error, after “Cannot connect! Please check your internet connection and try again!” message had told him that for a while, his efforts would be utterly futile.

The Terralien was absolutely bored out of his mind, and if he could emote, he’s sure he’d be scowling. The sun beat down on the room he’d isolated inside of, burning through the windows and heating up the room to a degree that just barely teetered on being unbearable. It took another 10 minutes before he was finally able to drag himself out of the beanbag chair he’d all but melted into from the disgusting amounts of heat, shambling his way over to the window to shut the blinds. The bright light from outside made him wince, holding up a paw to block the sun’s reflection from beating down into his visor as the small moth that resided within took shelter under the shade his paw and arm had provided, squeaking in discomfort. As the blinds pulled shut tightly, a soft humming sound, similar to a sigh of relief, escaped from him. To ensure that no further light or heat would enter the room, he pulled the curtains shut as well before finally making the call to dim the lights in the room as well.

It was hard to share his peers’ enthusiasm for the heated shift in the weather when he felt moments off from wanting to grab a razor and go to town on his oversized mane until he was more accurately comparable to the texture of some kind of worm or a naked mole rat, than anything furred. That, and he couldn’t exactly swim, so the prospect of going near a body of water was enough to make him shiver in discomfort, even in spite of the heat.

After a few more moments of standing and sulking, the moth within his visor began to squeak and smack into the glass of his visor, clearly agitated. With a jolt, he turned towards the direction of the slamming, drawing his attention towards a pile of papers and toys in the corner of his room. Head tilted in curiosity, he made his way closer. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to hoard little trinkets he found on his outings, so he figured that he must have forgotten about something that his little friend had remembered in his stead. Surely enough, a small handheld fan-like toy sat on the top of the pile.

He picked it up sheepishly, feeling rather idiotic for forgetting about the thing this entire time, before fiddling with the switch to figure out how it worked. It was one of those plastic, shoddy carnival toy fans that you had to repeatedly press a lever on the side of the handle of, in order for it to spin. The thing was loud and obnoxious, but the slight breeze of air provided a moment of relief.

With the small fan in his palm, gazing down at the pile of papers scattered about, he figured he might be able to find a way to pass the time by drawing until this whole mess passes over.