Mission - Prune's, times two01:27 Aug 18 2012
Times Read: 654
Wearing as it were a shirt the slim fellow has on a short blue workers jacket, with a pocket abreast and the collar turned up, the zip halfway down, to reveal a greying hirsute chest and a silver Ankh, round his thin neck, supporting a gaunt face, clean shaven; and, on his heads a leathercap, the peak tilted a little downward to shield his eyes of bluegrey, with photochromatic lenses, that have a small oval lenses, surround by a gilt colour. And, just prior to his walk he had shaved and, his still feels alive to the face, but boots are his choice of footwear, not those with a lace. And, he wears low Cuban heels zip-up black boots, worn under longlegged slimcut black jeans, as he strides with a purposeful walk, toward the village, on a blustery weather clouds moving fast sort of day. And the mission of the walk was twofold; to stretch each muscle that needed to be and, get two tins of prunes, as the replacement for Azda’s own was Princess and, we all know that they always cost more. And stretching the left shoulder, he clenched his jaw, as once more it hurts a little bit more; yet there’s the way of his day to enjoy and, enjoy it he does, telling the young lady in the Co-Op; “Walking home with these…” he says with one tin in each hand, “I’m be balanced, for the first time in ages. And then, walking home… the summer rain fell; till outside his door, the fellow removed his short blue workers jacket, with a pocket abreast and the collar turned up, that he wore as a shirt and, revelled in the feel of the light rain on his upper body, thinking ‘how good, it feels.
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