◈A D R I A N◈
Life's a beach.
I cocked my head to the side as I stood in front of a mannequin displayed by the sidewalk. That grey sweater with the bold words imprinted on it clung to the bulky frame of that doll like a second skin—or plastic in this case.
I wondered what those words meant.
A sudden autumn draft swept through the streets, sending a flurry of fallen leaves to dance around my feet. I kicked at a wild leaf futilely as it circled around me like a merry-go-round as if it was mocking at my miserable state.
Looking down on my tattered hand-me-down and back to that spanking new sweater, I couldn't help but to sigh.
Whatever they meant, the sweater sure looks warm, I thought wryly as I folded my arms around my torso.
A middle-aged woman came out of the store while looking expectantly at me. "Do you want to try it on? It may be too big on you but well, oversized sweaters are trending now among youngsters," she said. "That and sagging pants revealing half the bum!"
I fidgeted uncomfortably as she continued to chortle at her own humour. Tugging my pants unconsciously, I secretly hoped she wouldn't be able to tell my bunched-up pants I tied up with a rubber band to keep them secured around my waist from under my baggy shirt.
God forbids if she mistaken the bulge to be a hormonal erection.
I hunched my back and quickly shuffled away before she insist I try it on. The more I thought of it, the more I dreaded the scenario. The last thing I needed was to have her label me as a horny teenager.
As I wandered aimlessly on the sidewalk, my forgotten hunger pangs struck once again to remind me of my fruitless attempt to get twenty dollars from Mom.
Yeah, I had naively thought going on a hunger strike would call to her motherly instinct.
Growing up in a loveless family should have taught me better to be independent but somehow, I've always had this sliver of hope that maybe she cared. Maybe she just didn't know how to show it.
Yeah, locking you up in the cupboard showed how much she cared, a sneering voice mocked in my head. I winced at the harsh truth.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times I tried to wrap my head around with this spun lies, she never failed to tear through them in an instant.
Just as I was about to plunge into self-pity, a tantalizing smell of grilled sausages called to my stomach. Saliva immediately pooled in my mouth and I took a big gulp to swallow them before I embarrass myself by drooling.
The sound of sizzling fat from the rows of sausages and bacons on the hot plate lured me to a nearby hot dog stand right beside of the antique book store. There was already a small crowd gathering around the stand, all waiting patiently for their orders.
Pickled radishes, chopped scallions and tangy mustard laden on a fat, juicy Italian sausage nestled in fluffy, warm bun.
Oh man, is that what heaven looks like?
I could feel my gastric acid slowly yet surely corroding my stomach lining as my eyes feasted on the many varieties of toppings. My heart sank when I saw the price list. Two dollars for a regular hot dog. My hands found a pathetic nickel laying in my pockets and I fished it out, staring at it grudgingly.
A nickel. That could probably get me some mustard sauce to coat my stomach linings from the caustic acid. My lips pursed at the pitiful thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Fly High | ✅
General FictionCame here to die, only to be saved. One encounter on the rooftop and he's hooked, leaving Adrian constantly thinking about him. Like an open wound left unattended, his affection slowly festered into an obsession.
