The day was just waking up and the fist rays of sunshine were slowly peeking through the branches of the park trees. The silence, unnatural for the city, was unexpectedly broken by a rhythmic sound.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was a woodpecker attacking the bark of one of the stately linden trees with a persistence worthy of a greater cause, hidden in its crown.
However, it was not as well hidden as it thought it was. Its work was being steadily watched by a figure sitting almost motionlessly on one of the nearby benches.
If only we could swap places. At least then my constant urge to bang my head against the wall would make some sense - it would be a sign of productivity, not just a result of frustration.
Over the years, similar musings have become a great way to kill time between assignments, but today Zarara's mood was particularly bad.
The last three Collections took far too much time, and only a true wordsmith would be able to describe them in the reports in a way capable of covering this series of failures.