73 hours and this is what i have to show for....
While walking threw the mall, I spotted a man. Tall, brown hair , middle aged. Most likely lived with his parents till he was twenty seven then decided to liberate himself. Moved into a one bedroom apartment and cooks Stouffers for dinner every night and watched CSI;miami before bed. Chances are his blue and white pin striped pajamas match his pillow case.
He was reading a magazine; Women’s health, and acting like he wasn’t noticing every pretty young girl around him. He was reading and trying not to show how he wished he had a pretty girl to hold, kiss and love. Hell, to even talk to.” I’m guessing his name is Mark” I said allowed. “ people named mark are usually loners”
I walked up to Mark, Sat down. You could tell his hart stopped for a split second and a half. He smelt like cabbage and old spice. My stomach growling was what broke the dead silence surrounding us. I decided to get up and go buy a soft pretzel. Those always have been my favorite thing at the mall. As soon as I get up Mark lets out of sigh of relief mixed in with a sigh of agony.
As soon as I get my salted pretzel and bottle of water I go back to the bench where he sat. I noticed his tasseled loafer shoes. Most likely found them on sale at last chance and figured since they were stylish once in the eighties he could possibly fit in with the new vintage crowd.
I sit down slowly and noticed mark has put down his magazine and now has his cell phone out. It’s a nice phone. One I wouldn’t have thunk him to buy. He fallaciously pressed his keys, making sure the keypad volume was up. Was I supposed to believe he was actually texting someone? Or was he trying to keep busy?
“ I like your shoes” I said in a hurry hoping to get it out without giggling.Mark didn’t reply.“ I said , I like your shoes” This time using feelings.“ Thanks” He said in a uncouth, I’m-too-cool of a way.At that moment I figured he probably thought I was mocking him like people must have for his whole life. I let it slide. About five seconds later he pulls up a alligator skin briefcase, with the initials J.T.T.T & Y.“ What does that stand for?” I ask , pretending to give a shit.
Mark doesn’t answer. He just carry’s on with what he is doing, which at the moment is clipping coupons for the local fry’s. “ I hear their meat department is good”Mark looks up at me, with his colossal, distressing, cave man like eyes. At that moment I realize I hate mark. I hate him and his Damn alligator skin briefcase with just ridiculous initials. I hate his Damn brown blazer, and his coke bottle eyes. And who the hell does he think he is, clipping coupons at the mall, staring like a pedophile at teenage girls wishing he could bring them home and undress them.
I stand up in a fit of furry. And chuck what is left of my Wetzel pretzel at him and scream “ Enjoy your CSI, and your stuffers Mark!”Walking off , I realize I’m going to be just like him.