A Lack of Syrup
The light that shone in the bathroom was painfully artificial. A man stood in its glow, letting it wash over his sleep deprived face. His eyes gazed straight ahead. In the mirror, someone stared back. Slowly, a frown creased his face as he recognized who it was. He hated that man. "Bastard." He muttered while shaving.Ā Outside the bathroom, he could hear someone in the kitchen. They were digging through the pots and pans. Eggs or pancakes, he thought. Probably pancakes. They didn't have any syrup, but that had never stood in the Arthur's way before. The man leaned over the sink and washed his face free of the lather. He probably didn't need to shave. The man's facial hair grew in blonde and soft. It was almost invisible upon first glance. Yet, every morning, he brought the straight razor to his jawline. Businessmen were clean shaven and therefore, he would be too. Of course, most businessmen didn't work for a six, five tattoo artist, much less live with and love him, but there wasn't much he could do about either of those things.Ā "Richard!" Arthur called from the kitchen. "We need syrup."Ā Called it.
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Just a little scene with two of my favorite characters, Richard and Arthur. My dad found this and judged me horribly.Ā
