This drabble is the product of wondering how long pokemon live. Seriously, don't get mad.
Gone
Sunlight filtered down through the trees, a few scattered rays entering a window. Inside, a young man rolled over and pulled the sheets over his head, "Just five more minutes, Pikachu." He stilled, as if waiting for something.
He sat up and looked down at the foot of his bed. Curled up on the end was his best friend, battling companion and strongest pokemon.
"Hey, Pikachu, wake up." He frowned. Something was not right. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, shifting himself to pet his friend awake. He touched his friend's head and stopped. Pikachu was cold. He was gone.
