Open Post.
Adrian sits under a tree, attempting to stitch up a tear in his jacket. It isn't working very well, possibly because he is paying more attention to the book in front of him (a volume of Shelley's poetry) than his task. He bends his head to read a line more carefully and then straightens with a yelp as the needle point jabs into his finger.
Muttering a string of distinctly ungentlemanly curses, he takes a moment to examine his work. The stitches are flimsy, too broad and too messy, and the fabric bunches up in places where the thread is pulled too tight.
If anyone would like to stop and chat, or better yet, offer some help, it would be greatly appreciated.
Muttering a string of distinctly ungentlemanly curses, he takes a moment to examine his work. The stitches are flimsy, too broad and too messy, and the fabric bunches up in places where the thread is pulled too tight.
If anyone would like to stop and chat, or better yet, offer some help, it would be greatly appreciated.