"...empty. Of course, what am I expecting?"
A forlorn and depressed voiced echoed amongst the confines of a desolate space. A man could be seen standing in front of a wreckage, looking around while carrying a brown sack over his shoulders.
The man was really skinny, his bones could almost be seen poking through what little amount of flesh he has. He cheeks were sunken and there's this dull and lifeless look in his eyes.
His face was dirty, filled with grime and dirt. He has a single horn that's broken poking out of his forehead. His lips were thin and blue, his clothes were more like rags and he doesn't even have a footwear.
Despite already expecting nothing out of this dumpster site, he still looked around, garnering the tiniest hope that maybe - just maybe, he happened to have missed something of value.
His eyesight was turning bad after all, it wouldn't be surprising if he actually missed something.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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