"In the semi-darkened office adjoining the art studio Grey Cleveland sat at his desk, dispiritedly rolling a pencil between his fingers. A strange restlessness possessed him tonight, and he sought to identify it."
He drooled moodily onto his starched shirt and used the pencil to pry an errant booger from his left nostril. A string of snot stretched out from the fuzzy depths of his nasal cavity to the clod of dried mucous on the pencil’s tip, gleaming silvery for a moment in the light cast from the laundromat sign across the street before snapping abruptly away from the pencil to smack wetly against his lips. He sighed and licked them. He wondered if tonight might be the night he’d fall victim to a warped game of lust.
Suddenly Dixie came saucing across the street toward him from the Laundromat. It was obvious she’d already had one too many vodkas, her left heel broken by the curb and the black frayed bra strap dangling from her spaghetti strap dress. Forgetting for a moment about boogers, Grey felt something twitch in his pants peering at her between the Venetian blinds.
Tumblr is a pretty special place; it’s why I call it home.