socks [thundy]
Aug 13, 2014 2:03:10 GMT -5
Post by shrimp on Aug 13, 2014 2:03:10 GMT -5
SPEARE
Most days it's very hard for Speare Fer to get outside; he's never liked it, it's always like his stomach has turned into a ball of rubber bands and is slowly shrinking smaller and smaller, twisting around and making him feel ill. He can feel his heart beating faster and faster by the time he's reached the marketplace (mother asked him to go get some fresh bread from the bakery but at this point he's too disoriented and panicking far too much to really figure out where the bread can be found).
He doesn't want to be here, he's going to make a fool out of himself and everyone will know and they'll never let him forget it and he'll never let himself forget it and this wa a terrible idea he should have just stayed inside today with a cup of iced tea and a good book at least then he wouldn't make a fool out of himself and ruin his chances of ever functioning in society ever again.
Eventually he finds the shop, pointing to the closest baguette that he can see and paying frantically for it with crumpled up change but at last he's free, he's free to get back home as quickly as possible and lock the doors and let the fear inside that's simmering and waiting to boil quiet down with deep breaths and the scribble of a pen on paper. He squeezes his way through the busy crowd and he's just about made it to the outskirts of the market when suddenly with a loud THWUMP his large frame crashes into someone else and he falls, flat on his ass.
Now I've done it, I knew I shouldn't have left the house now this happened, he bemoans. Quickly standing up and dusting himself up he turns to look at whoever bumped into him and he swears that his heart leaps up into his throat because this is a salesman and he is so screwed. I just want to go home. Let me go home. Oh no.
Most days it's very hard for Speare Fer to get outside; he's never liked it, it's always like his stomach has turned into a ball of rubber bands and is slowly shrinking smaller and smaller, twisting around and making him feel ill. He can feel his heart beating faster and faster by the time he's reached the marketplace (mother asked him to go get some fresh bread from the bakery but at this point he's too disoriented and panicking far too much to really figure out where the bread can be found).
He doesn't want to be here, he's going to make a fool out of himself and everyone will know and they'll never let him forget it and he'll never let himself forget it and this wa a terrible idea he should have just stayed inside today with a cup of iced tea and a good book at least then he wouldn't make a fool out of himself and ruin his chances of ever functioning in society ever again.
Eventually he finds the shop, pointing to the closest baguette that he can see and paying frantically for it with crumpled up change but at last he's free, he's free to get back home as quickly as possible and lock the doors and let the fear inside that's simmering and waiting to boil quiet down with deep breaths and the scribble of a pen on paper. He squeezes his way through the busy crowd and he's just about made it to the outskirts of the market when suddenly with a loud THWUMP his large frame crashes into someone else and he falls, flat on his ass.
Now I've done it, I knew I shouldn't have left the house now this happened, he bemoans. Quickly standing up and dusting himself up he turns to look at whoever bumped into him and he swears that his heart leaps up into his throat because this is a salesman and he is so screwed. I just want to go home. Let me go home. Oh no.
