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slackerspice
Aug. 23rd, 2011 05:02 am (UTC)
17 - barefoot
nicediphthongs


The bark felt strangely familiar, like the pages of a book, and he paused a moment before dropping to the ground. The dew in the grass made him stumble, and he shivered, clutching his pajamas close in the predawn air.

He looked over the city. About now, the bakers would be heating their ovens, and the rats scurrying back to their holes. He knew this, but now he felt it too, like his own pulse.

He shook himself, then started making his way towards the street.

Now to get home before Mother realized he was gone...

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