Tristan put his hand into the front right pocket of his pants. He twisted his hand back and forth, opened his fingers wide, then squeezed them around his powerfully muscular quadriceps. He removed his hand, tensed his right oblique muscle, and shifted downwards to the right. Tristan patted the pocket just above his knee, and […]
Tag: paris story
Oasis
The flat, dusty, brown serpent stretched out in front of him. Paris raised his eyes from his boots and gazed at a point on the horizon. At this juncture, the road was swallowed by a slowly descending, molten red-orange, half-circle that bravely fought off the impending darkness. The sky was swept with vivid hues of lavender, pink […]
Room
Paris adjusted his position in the chair. As chairs go, it was far from anything special. It was rigid, with no cushion or padding of which to speak. It was constructed of some unidentifiable wood, covered by a thin layer of a dark and slightly copper hued paint. The paint flaked off the chair at […]