5 minutes. Tried 3rd person. I’m kind of blah about it.

Robert walked a down a different set of streets to get home each night. He refused to take the same path with any regularity, he loved his neighborhood, and wanted to see how each house, each alley, each street sign looked at different angles, times of day, and seasons. Robert had made a habit of not having a habitual walk, but one day this all changed.

He was passing by Meadowlark lane at 5:30 p.m., noticing the difference the earlier light made. The windows on the north-eastern block were completely flooded with the amber glow of sunset, and casting a kaleidoscope of shadows across the street. As he drew nearer to the intersection, where he had decided to turn down Skylark street, a graceful arc of movement drew his gaze. There, in the smallest window on the side of brick townhouse with the address of 1612 Meadowlark, a boy was exiting the shower and had taken his hand to clear the steam from mirror.

Robert had never seen anyone more captivating, he had stopped in the middle of the intersection without thinking, and pondered at the boys face, which he could only see in the mirrors reflection. He looked to be about twenty, and his face struck a balance between that of slightly fleshy youth and the hardened chiseled lines of manhood. He was blonde, and had a few whisps of a beard, which the boy stroked, with a concentrated look on his face. It seemed he was wondering whether or not it was worth it to shave. He mouthed something, flashing almost vampire like canines, and then laughed. A personal joke.

“What are you looking at?” knocked Robert from his trance, as an angry motorist practically nudged him with the hood of his car.

Robert immediately blushed, and moved out of his way, and when he looked back, the boy was gone.

Robert never missed walking by Meadowlark Lane again, but he never saw him again.


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