The crisp midnight air was too refreshing for his worn lungs. He reaches for his chest pocket and digs around the worn brown plaid lining of his over shirt and fishes out a dented box of cigarettes and a book of matches. He tugs a match through the book and lights up the cigarette. While blowing cloud he limps over to his rusted burgundy truck. Taking a deep inhale of the pungent smoke he hoists himself into the flatbed lays on his back and looks up at the stars. It had been days since he had eaten. He looks to his right at his cooler. Reaching over he slides his hand into the box and fumbles around grasping for something. He tips the cooler over raining water and ice right on his head. His yelp echos through the dense forest, only to be greeted with the howl of wolves. His eyes widen in fear. He had fended off wolves before, but then he had a m-16, and three other people with him. Now he was alone, defenseless, hungry and an open target. “Stupid,” the thinks to himself, “if I had...
The Stranger Long legs shot upwards to a broad-shouldered torso. Resting on top of the strong shoulders sits an ovular head. What I would assume to most women would be a handsomely chiseled face with sharp details. Hazel brown eyes, slicked-back black hair, and light stubble. He moves with such graceful elegance that it distracts one from noticing the clack of his dark tan dress boots, which contracted to his muted gray suit. As he casually strolled down the chaotic aisles of food, knickknacks, clothing, and junk. Out of sheer chance, he looked at me and I looked at him. Our eyes locked only for a second, but in that second he knew everything about me, and I knew even less about him than I did before. He cracked a smile at me, the kind that one does to a decades-old friend. His front left tooth had a small chip in it. He winked at me and returned his attention forward towards the cashier. The cashier was an old man. He was probably i...
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