Silly Short Stories and Poems

addiction

I'll admit it, I have a guilty pleasure. It isn't chocolate or anything such as that. I suppose it isn't exactly material either. He was...materialistic...You could guess. But being addicted to gazing at someone is sort of like a guilty pleasure, right?

He was a rather...interesting young man. His dirt colored hair fell over his deep brown eyes. Okay describing his hair as dirt isn't exactly attractive sounding.

Restart that.

His bark brown- Now that isn't right either Lily!

Scraping chairs interrupted my mental battle, the bell had rung apparently and there he was, standing. He had slung his bag over his shoulder and had begun to walk towards the door.

There he was. His pale face devoid of emotion.

There he was.

Ryan. Ross.

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so this is a short for a friend.

it wasn't finished, but i like this little excerpt.