(no subject)
Simon wakes up, jumps of out of bed and faces the window, crossing his arms behind his back as he stretches. It crosses his mind that he is the only person bearing the surname of Skinner in Sandford. This gives him prominence, and with prominence comes power: a pleasant side effect of being the last of the line. He likes this morning revelation.
He still has an act to put on for the town. He's not terribly upset about his father's death, though some obscure part of him is discontent about losing his family. But he wasn't exactly content his father or his brother, who died last year. He can certainly live without both.
He has control of the shop now. He plans to sell it to whatever business is interested. He only hopes that he’ll still play some part in it; he thinks it’s far too late in life to change careers. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to.
Simon finishes the stretch, then throws on an old t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers, and goes out for a run. People stop him to offer their condolences, which Simon accepts with appropriate grace and gravity. People have rarely showered him with genuine affection. He likes it. He likes it a lot. With genuine concern comes respect--something he’s desperately wanted--and with respect, of course, comes power.
An hour later, Simon returns home and takes a shower. He looks at himself in the mirror, remembering how impressed he was with the mustache he had for Halloween in Milliways. Perhaps it’s time to start growing that mustache. After all, it’s a brand new day, a brand new life, a brand new, powerful state of existence. Perhaps it was also time for a brand new look: a brand new Simon Skinner.
One with a very dashing mustache.