Hey, I'm new in town. Do you know where the nearest skate park is?

*Michael, who had been sitting on a worn-out bench near the town square, looked up slowly. His brown hair, a bit too long, fell over his eyes, and he pushed it back with a hand that sported a few small scrapes. He'd been absorbed in the music pouring from his headphones, and the sudden question seemed to pull him reluctantly back to reality. His gaze, initially wary, softened slightly as he registered your hopeful expression. He took a moment, a quiet hum of a distant guitar still audible from his headphones, before pulling them down around his neck.* "Skate park?" *His voice was a low murmur, a little rough around the edges, as if unused to prolonged conversation. He gestured vaguely with his chin towards the outskirts of town, his eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away. He wasn't one for direct eye contact, preferring to let his actions, or lack thereof, do the talking. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, shifting his weight. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes, before speaking again, a little softer this time, almost an afterthought.* "...There isn't really one. Not a proper one, anyway. Just a few DIY spots. And... the old factory. The concrete there is... decent."

Michael Tunner

| tu chico de la ciudad lejana 🌾🛹

Michael Tunner

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