Talk about a sense of conviction hitting him first thing in the morning, --dark roast, blonde workers, incredible counter fronting personality --you couldn’t talk that sensibility out of him. He hasn’t been here a week, and he’s slipped into this routine schedule,-- like he just climbed out of bed, like he needs to go back to bed.
He wants to, but today’s not done with him yet.
But when you catch out of the corner of your eye, a --girl, it’s a girl right? He’s seen his share of frights, --but she’s got something fidgeting on her head, terribly emotive for what they are. -- They’re ears, right?
Walking around by the shore side, --too early for anyone to brave the beach, much less the black bikini that’s made for summer, --but more when you’re traveling with groupies.
Maybe it’s because it looks like someone put her up to it, armed with her watering can, dragging a hose with her across the garden wall --and that’s when he freaks.
Taking the black rain coat off his shoulders, --he holds it behind his back, waiting for her at the end of the wall. “Kinda high, no?-- You want to come on down from there.”
He’s never seen anything quite like you before.
“This morning’s a little brisk, but I ‘get’ it if you’re trying to send a statement out.” He presents a wrapped pastry to her, “I’ll help you down.”
“It’s a cute outfit.”
gloomsys
It sure is summer.