I understand I ought to be outcast from the blogging community for neglecting Phantasmagorium, but I was on the road. So I'll just have you write about outcasts instead!
Umi closed his eyes and imagined in the thick, dreaming aroma of Shiori’s room both of them were in their childhood again. He imagined he didn’t have to worry about who didn’t (or did) want touching him. He imagined someone would wake him, in the morning, and tell him what he should do. He imagined they would tell him how to be happy.
Camp Nano is only days away, writers. Plunging into a new project blind is always a risk, but I've found I'm more receptive to the unexpected when I haven't set my novel in stone. If you ever struggle finding something to write about, look at your own life or the lives of people around you--there's always an idea somewhere!