Ricky sat on the side of the road, backpack on his lap with a sad expression on his pale face. It was absolutely freezing outside, being mid-November. He couldn't go inside. He had nowhere.
Cars passed by him as he held up at small cardboard sign, 'Need food, anything helps!' wasn't exactly helping. Ricky held tight to the thin hoodie around his tiny frame, fighting tears. The tears were fighting him as well as they began to stream down his feminine face.
He was out of options. He had no friends, no family anymore. His mother and father passed, and his sister is away in the UK. Nobody was there for the small goth boy.
So there Ricky continued to sit. Age seventeen today. Did anyone wish him a happy birthday? No. There was nobody.
♤♤♤
Meanwhile, about a mile down the road from Ricky's location, Ryan sat at the bar as his dancers stalked around. Dim lights to hide their faces, slutty outfits, and all around sluts surrounded him.
Working at the Electric City for nearly ten years, Ryan had never once felt attracted to one of the dancers... Or anyone, for that matter.
Ryan decided that love maybe just wasn't for him. Besides, what woman would want a man who runs a strip club?
After downing another shot, Ryan slammed the glass on the table. He needed something. Something tight, something cheap. A nice little car trip to the corner might help Ryan relax a bit.
Down the street, Ryan decided to go, condoms in hand and alcohol drowning his mind.