VVhite Coffee (boyxboy)

[11] HR.

     Welcome to a day of Noah Vinson.

     He woke up to the bright, warm rays of sun discreetly heating up his skin- not. Albinism. His windows looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie, what with the exterior window shades. Through tiny little holes that edged them, light sneaked in like slits of laser.

     They cast dots on Noah's mat white back as he spread sunscreen on his body, naked save for a pair of black boxers. He closed his eyes once he got to the face, rubbing his cheeks into funny, sleepy faces. It took more than a shower to wake him up.

     Hence, once he was all dressed and proper, he grabbed the impostor rat and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Whereas his ex-rat would sit on his shoulder just fine, this one kept clawing its way around, nibbling his ear and becoming one with his hair at times.

     Noah lightened up a cigarette and pressed the button on his stereo, playing his favorite album of all times. John Fruscinante- Niandra LaDes and Usually Just A T Shirt. The result of plenty heroin shot into a man that's plenty special.

      After the breakfast, which yes, consisted of cigarette and coffee, he placed the rat in its cage (which was his entire pantry, with the shelves connected by planks to create a tower which the little impostor enjoyed as much as the ex-rat).

     With that, he chose his umbrella for the day, the tiny collection placed in a tall vase by the door, and went on his merry way- not. Albinism. As soon as he stepped out of the building, heads turned his way, whether it was because of his condition or because he was carrying an umbrella on a perfectly clear day.

     However, this particular day was unlike others. Something changed in his routine.

     Once he passed the gate that edged the tiny garden of his apartment complex, he stopped by the homeless dude sitting there every Monday and Thursday. Noah's umbrella invited the poor guy under the same shadow as the albino.

     He appeared to be youngish, though his beard was deceiving. He had wide, dark brown eyes that matched the rest of him: his hair, his clothes, and the smudges on his skin and wear.

     "Hi, Bob." he sighed. "How... are you today?"

     Because Noah was considering becoming a better person after the 'talk' with Morris, and the only one he'd let witness that would have to be a hobo. Seemingly mute and probably foreign, was what Noah had gathered from his brother. (guess who the brother is and win dedication)

     The guy looked up with those clueless, clear... free eyes of his, barely peeking from underneath the large, grey beanie. He just stared intensely, the way Noah had always noticed him stare at any passing person, Noah himself included.

     Noah rummaged through his pocket and fished out some change, then extended his hand.

     Bob blinked slowly, pulled his large jacket tighter around his body and shook his head.

     A crease brought Noah's eyebrows together in confusion, but he didn't ponder on it long before resuming his walk.

     Twenty steps away, and the heads turning his way became too much, as every single day. In order to keep himself from snapping, he searched his pocket for a cigarette.

     ...the pack was gone.

     He stopped, glared emptily frontwards, and turned around.

     Bob was gone, too.

     Noah shook his head.

     Humanitarian crap.