My name is Tommy. I was a little kitten who used to live outside until Clera decided to adopt me. A week later, I had become a normal part of the family, feeding from the communal cat bowl. The hard brown niblets were crunching between my youthfully gnashing teeth, my white muzzle oscillating, saline crumbs sprinkling from my clammy pink lips, set below my incongruous charcoal nose. My tabby coat flowed from the crown of my head to my tail’s termination, hopping my blanche scarf onto my scrawny shoulder blades. Myself contently chewing, my pure struts folded beneath me, spotlessly unsoiled.
Another day, another tube of hair gel. Niki swished the glop between his strands and pushed his long tumultuous hair up and away from his face, driving them upwards into curving conic peaks. It was June 26; Niki’s face was filled with the radiance of the Sun. His formerly white t-shirt had been graying from months of gel drip and food spills that had never come out...
Another day, another tube of hair gel. Niki swished the glop between his strands and pushed his long tumultuous hair up and away from his face, driving them upwards into curving conic peaks. It was June 26; Niki’s face was filled with the radiance of the Sun. His formerly white t-shirt had been graying from months of gel drip and food spills that had never come out...