In which a bird boy gets wet, and meets people.
Being new sucked. Been here a week and Simon still got turned around trying to find the corner store for a carton of milk. As he backtracked for what seemed like the eighth time to a corner to count street numbers, he registered a large cracking sound above him, and realized how dark the skies had become. Crap. Of course his umbrella was in the apartment. And that was, how many blocks away exactly? Ten? Twelve? During those instants while he stared up at the sky, it decided to open up and pour in his face.
More crap. Simon unfolded the newspaper he had picked off of an abandoned bench earlier in a vain attempt to keep himself dry. He glanced around. There! Across the street was a big building of some kind. It had to have a lobby he could stay in until this blew past. The shapeshifter picked his way through the traffic and darted through the large door.
It was quiet inside, except for quiet elevator music being pumped in through speakers somewhere. Simon was careful to keep to the tile near the door so he wouldn't drip all over the plush carpeting. The newspaper was next to useless, it was soaked through and the ink was starting to run off onto his hand. Disposing it in a trash can, he noticed the plaque on its side.
"Thank you for doing your part in keeping the Conrad clean!"
The Conrad. What had that girl, Babel said? "The Conrad is safe. Most people don't judge much." What an amusing twist of fate.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him.
More crap. Simon unfolded the newspaper he had picked off of an abandoned bench earlier in a vain attempt to keep himself dry. He glanced around. There! Across the street was a big building of some kind. It had to have a lobby he could stay in until this blew past. The shapeshifter picked his way through the traffic and darted through the large door.
It was quiet inside, except for quiet elevator music being pumped in through speakers somewhere. Simon was careful to keep to the tile near the door so he wouldn't drip all over the plush carpeting. The newspaper was next to useless, it was soaked through and the ink was starting to run off onto his hand. Disposing it in a trash can, he noticed the plaque on its side.
"Thank you for doing your part in keeping the Conrad clean!"
The Conrad. What had that girl, Babel said? "The Conrad is safe. Most people don't judge much." What an amusing twist of fate.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him.