He kept looking at a picture he'd posted on the black and white wall at eye level, or Kate Moss lifting the skirt of a black dress. For some reason, t...hat seemed like a good metaphor for something. For his life, maybe. He was wearing his blue 555-SOUL hoodie. It was an extra-extra large. Last year, his freshman year in high school, he had written an essay on hoodies. He'd been interested in the fact that a kid who wears a size small t-shirt can feel completely comfortable in a sweatshirt that's. But I know Blessing would. THe day seemed to last for hours. People were yapping on and on about the snow outside, but I could care less. People seemed entice by the white wonderland of snow, while I couldn't get my mind of the white wonderland of Blessing's pale boobs. FInally, the 3 o'clock bell rang and I rushed to the bus. BLessing arrived a few minutes later in a georgeous red shirt,, low cut of course. The first low-cut peek I had seen all day, my dick snapped to attention the second she. I dunno man-boy to me. The shit I used to think was confidence now seems like lazyness, his bravado seems like dim-wittedness. I know he hasn't changed. It's the same him, the same shit, but I'm different now. It feels dissonant; frightening. Like I thought I knew what I wanted, and it wore a leather jacket and smelled like engine-oil and booze, and rode motorcycles with a devil-may-care attitude, and bent me over those motorcycles and fucked me with that same devil-may-care attitude. But now. I just had to stand still as their softness brushed all around me. As the bus moved on I would slowly move towards the college & school students unnoticed in the rush, very near to them-so near that they would fall on me when the bus halts or moves. Once they fall on me I would stick to them. They would think that they fell on me but because of the rush they could not move away even if they wanted. Some of the young would wear silk dress, which stuck on to their body like a second skin. A touch.