p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"The woman was hunched over her desk, her face facing the floor. Her eyes were on the carpet, then her feet, then to the small trash bin next to her shoes that was filled with broken thread, buttons, and other trashed wrappers and junk. Everything seemed to be the normal. The same lamp that had been building dust was lit. The sewing machine was placed in front of her in a horizontal position that she had prefered it be placed in that way. The Chansey pincushion had the pins stuck only on it's back, because it bugged her when it was stuck anywhere else. Everything was in place, just like she wanted it, but something was off. And just like her eyes, her mind wandered./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"It wasn't her surrounding objects that were bothering her, no. In fact, it was the surrounding people, or person, bothering her. Maybe not to a point where she doesn't want to be around them, but more to the point where she honestly just wants them to stay for once. And maybe it frustrates her to a point where she just wants to be alone? It's a confusing subject for her to think about, but she has come to terms with the person, accepting their wishes to be away from home all of the time. And although it pains her to think about it, she'll be giving that person, her son, a plane ticket to his next destination, which happens to be across the world: Kalos./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"The brown-haired woman sighs at the name, sitting back up and looking at her work in progress on her desk. It was originally supposed to be done before morning, but a loose thread caused a tear across the collar, causing it to be another day of precision and focus. The woman stretched her shoulder blades, then pulled a pin from her Chansey pincushion and looked at the mess on the collar of her creation. The tear was bad, but not impossible to fix. She wanted to give it to her son before he left. She, Delia Ketchum, also wanted to hug him and never let him leave./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"She pressed her lips in a line and carefully pushed the needle with the blue thread hanging on behind it into the fabric. /span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span id="docs-internal-guid-592f4e2b-fbb3-f423-65ac-f11db5a46ef4"span style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"strongA distraction from her wandering mind./strong /span/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"It wasn't her surrounding objects that were bothering her, no. In fact, it was the surrounding people, or person, bothering her. Maybe not to a point where she doesn't want to be around them, but more to the point where she honestly just wants them to stay for once. And maybe it frustrates her to a point where she just wants to be alone? It's a confusing subject for her to think about, but she has come to terms with the person, accepting their wishes to be away from home all of the time. And although it pains her to think about it, she'll be giving that person, her son, a plane ticket to his next destination, which happens to be across the world: Kalos./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"The brown-haired woman sighs at the name, sitting back up and looking at her work in progress on her desk. It was originally supposed to be done before morning, but a loose thread caused a tear across the collar, causing it to be another day of precision and focus. The woman stretched her shoulder blades, then pulled a pin from her Chansey pincushion and looked at the mess on the collar of her creation. The tear was bad, but not impossible to fix. She wanted to give it to her son before he left. She, Delia Ketchum, also wanted to hug him and never let him leave./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; color: #000000; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"She pressed her lips in a line and carefully pushed the needle with the blue thread hanging on behind it into the fabric. /span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.04; margin-top: 11pt; margin-bottom: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span id="docs-internal-guid-592f4e2b-fbb3-f423-65ac-f11db5a46ef4"span style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-family: Cabin; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; background-color: transparent;"strongA distraction from her wandering mind./strong /span/span/p