Once I got back home from work and saw him sittngon the couch with his knees under him and his chin resting on hisfingers, wearing a blue summer dress...with his hair in a high pony. Helooked soo pretty! "Who did your hair like that?" I asked surprised."It was falling all over my face and I saw one of the girls in my classwearing her hair like that and she looked like super pretty so I triedit too," he replied. I didn't say anything but I was beginning toquestion my decision. He looked too. Who he was. Where he lived. How he lived.Especially how people saw him. He knew his appearance could be neater. Butthe difference such improvements would make was not the difference he waslooking for. He shifted in his well used chair and finished off his beer. Hebriefly thought about shutting down his PC and reading a book. He'd alwaysmeant to read Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment beckoned from a sense ofintellectual debt. But not real desire. He sighed and watched the blue barrecord the. More

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