It was the third day on the job for Heath. He thought being a Security guard would have been a quiet, more solitary job, but he started to recognise prominent faces around the campus, and some people even smiled at him. With his older, grizzled appearance, giant scar over his cheek, imposing figure and stoic face when on duty, he just emanated a hyper-masculine power fantasy, but it meant nothing when almost everyone here was capable of some destruction. He was reporting mundane things: damages to buildings, students that lost or dropped their cards, the odd student that roamed the campus past dark for something suspicious. He only stopped one fight in his time here, but it was relatively bloodless.
It was... peaceful.
He could appreciate this, and by the third day maybe the permanent furrow in his brows softened a little. Yet he still lacked someone he could call a 'friend'.
Heath had lunch a little earlier than the students. He stared out at the lake, sitting on the bench. He had packed an old, slightly dented steel lunchbox, inside a messy row of triangle-shaped sandwiches that he made himself. The corners were a bit ragged, but they looked alright. He only knew how to handle a knife to kill, so this was the best he could really do.
Seagulls roamed the island skies, and with the smell of food, they cried out their high-pitched squawks as though arguing with each other. A brave one landed near Heath, and he tossed a corner of his bread and watched the few birds scuffle. More came, as Heath ate his sandwich while feeding them scraps of his raggedy crumbs.
"Heh." Heath smiled to himself when the birds came in a cloud of hungry wings and red beaks, crying out madly and fighting over food. He didn't realize the commotion of the birds might have attracted someone else.
It was... peaceful.
He could appreciate this, and by the third day maybe the permanent furrow in his brows softened a little. Yet he still lacked someone he could call a 'friend'.
Heath had lunch a little earlier than the students. He stared out at the lake, sitting on the bench. He had packed an old, slightly dented steel lunchbox, inside a messy row of triangle-shaped sandwiches that he made himself. The corners were a bit ragged, but they looked alright. He only knew how to handle a knife to kill, so this was the best he could really do.
Seagulls roamed the island skies, and with the smell of food, they cried out their high-pitched squawks as though arguing with each other. A brave one landed near Heath, and he tossed a corner of his bread and watched the few birds scuffle. More came, as Heath ate his sandwich while feeding them scraps of his raggedy crumbs.
"Heh." Heath smiled to himself when the birds came in a cloud of hungry wings and red beaks, crying out madly and fighting over food. He didn't realize the commotion of the birds might have attracted someone else.