The little Gacha couldn’t help but sigh as he looked out the window. The rain was coming down even harder now, the water drops beating against the glass. He places his hand on his small paw, expression forming into a small pout. Not even the smell of freshly cooked potato soup was enough to pull him away.
“Gizmo honey, I know you’re sad that you can’t go outside today but there’s no reason to mope.” The sound of his dad’s voice chimes in. The older Gacha walks over and pl...
