God damn this afternoon sun.
God damn the sun in general.
As he walked down the street, the summer sun creating shimmery heat waves in front of him and microwaving the pavement under his sneakers, he found himself thinking again about how much he hated the sun. It was part of the reason he was so lively in the nightlife. After all, the night might be just as bright as the day to him, but at least at night he didn't have to worry about accidentally giving himself light blindness.
And summer, despite its muggy heat, had its advantages--it was the only season where he could walk around shirtless without people judging him for it. Not that people judging him for his shirtlessness ever actually made him put on a shirt, but he noticed when people stared at his gray skin and abdominal muscles. He flexed for them usually. Gave them a wink.
He was a "please touch" museum.
Towards familiar arches he went, the automatic doors sliding open and a blast of cool air dried the sweat off his body in one go. He loved these golden arches. They were a true friend in the best of times.
One hand was in his pocket fishing for his wallet while his other hand had his phone, thumb flying across the screen and tapping out a message to his friends. He glanced up every now and again, trying to make sure he didn't bump into anyone.
@Ghostmaiden
God damn the sun in general.
As he walked down the street, the summer sun creating shimmery heat waves in front of him and microwaving the pavement under his sneakers, he found himself thinking again about how much he hated the sun. It was part of the reason he was so lively in the nightlife. After all, the night might be just as bright as the day to him, but at least at night he didn't have to worry about accidentally giving himself light blindness.
And summer, despite its muggy heat, had its advantages--it was the only season where he could walk around shirtless without people judging him for it. Not that people judging him for his shirtlessness ever actually made him put on a shirt, but he noticed when people stared at his gray skin and abdominal muscles. He flexed for them usually. Gave them a wink.
He was a "please touch" museum.
Towards familiar arches he went, the automatic doors sliding open and a blast of cool air dried the sweat off his body in one go. He loved these golden arches. They were a true friend in the best of times.
One hand was in his pocket fishing for his wallet while his other hand had his phone, thumb flying across the screen and tapping out a message to his friends. He glanced up every now and again, trying to make sure he didn't bump into anyone.
@Ghostmaiden