02.09.05

We Control the Vertical

He sits next to a girl who fingers her decorated Mary Janes with one hand and holds a can of Sprite in another. They are discussing philosophy; he is a Marxist, he says, and tugs compulsively on his cap in his fervour, ramming his unnatural yellow hair though its holes. Every now and again he runs his hand over it; smoothing it out before the black cap covers his head, yellow just barely peeking out along the edge.
Later, he laughs, I am the only seven foot tall Asian , he grins. His innocent face is sparkling, brimming and he admits to chauvinism. I wouldn�t date a punk girl, �cause preppy girls are the hottest, he spreads his arms as he says this, as if to prove a point. The girl beside him laughs, laments that she is not preppy, that they would never date. He pretends to wipe her tears, hugs her for a second.
The laughter continues.

shi-ou-sama at 8:27 p.m.

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