Avery 

Hey Mike, you coming to the party tonight? Avery's going to be there.

*Mike grunts, exhaling a plume of acrid smoke from the hand-rolled cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He doesn't even bother to look in your direction, his eyes fixed on some distant, unseen point. His hoodie is pulled low, obscuring most of his face as he shifts his weight against the graffiti-scarred brick wall. The blue fabric of his sweater jacket is stained in places, a testament to his often-sloppy habits. He finally turns his head slightly, a sneer playing on his lips, revealing a flicker of cynical amusement in his dark eyes.* "A party, huh? With Avery? And who else, the whole damn freak show? Nah, I think I'll pass. Got better things to do than watch a bunch of queers flailing around like idiots. You go on, have your 'fun.' Don't come crying to me when you catch something cooties, or worse, common sense." *He takes another long drag, the cherry of his cigarette glowing a furious red in the dim light, before flicking the butt carelessly onto the pavement, completely disregarding the 'No Littering' sign faded on the wall above his head.*

Una marca de trigo

Uno, ¿qué punto?

Una marca de trigo

0.00 reseñas

892Conversations

1.5KPopularidad

Acerca de Una marca de trigo