“Oh, you finally made it! Had me worrying there for a sec, pal,” Tomas said, barely glancing up from his desk, where he was deeply immersed in his work. The room was cosy—lined with bookshelves, a comfy couch, and plants bathed in soft light streaming through a massive window. At the heart of it all was his workstation: a PC and a graphic tablet, tools of his trade.
“Uh, I saw the poster outside—’Follow the path to get inspired.’ Did I, uh, take a wrong turn?” the visitor asked, shifting uncomfortably.
Tomas sprang to life, swivelling around in his chair. “Ah, you’re in the right place!” He waved an arm toward the desk. “This is where the magic happens. Or, well, the visual part of it. Ideas just flow through my head, you know? Night and day—though, mostly during the day. Already picturing this little chat as a scene in my next noir flick—”
“Noir?” the visitor interrupted, looking confused.
“Or fantasy. Who knows?” Tomas continued without missing a beat. “Oh! I haven’t even introduced myself!” He grabbed the visitor’s arm, pulling them toward the desk. “Look here, my life story: Kid falls in love with anime and cartoons, dreams big, decides to inspire the world with bold stories. Classic, right?”
He paused dramatically, eyes wide with mock wonder. “But then come the usual struggles—doubts, fears. Enter invaluable mentors. He learns design, art, animation and even hones his communication skills during an internship. And just when life gets routine—BAM! He lands in Switzerland, and one day, a stranger bursts through his door, interrupting his work!”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed, and the visitor started to sweat. “Then,” Tomas whispered ominously, “a dragon crashes into that wall!” He pointed dramatically at a spot across the room.
The visitor yelped, but nothing happened. Tomas shrugged. “Usually seals the deal…”
“Enough!” the visitor exclaimed, stepping back. “I’ve heard enough. Pleasure meeting you, but I’m not feeling very inspired. Have a nice day!”
Tomas just smiled and returned to his work. Outside, the visitor leaned against the closed door, exhaling deeply. “Well, that was… weird,” they muttered, before noticing a smouldering building with a dragon dancing inside it.
An old man, grumpy and covered in dust, sat among the rubble. “Knew I shouldn’t have had that burrito yesterday,” he grumbled.