Prompts: PENCIL, ICE, DEPRESSION
Draco sat on the window ledge and considered the sunrise. At least the sun would melt all the ice – it was quite depressing when he couldn’t go outside – his complexion was too delicate to survive the cold weather. Oh, doom and woe, he thought. All he had to do was write love poems to his dearly beloved with his lucky pencil. Hopefully, his luck would be better this time and by tonight he would get laid.
