Pat paced the room, tapping the jacket whenever he passed it, but not putting it on. He let the carpet seep through his toes with each step, and ran his hands down his pant legs to wipe down the sweat. Being indoors this long was not a feeling he was accustomed to.
Once he stopped to adjust the cuff links at his wrists, but, having only done it once before, he quickly gave up and continued pacing. His beard, six months’ grown, was rough to the touch when he combed his fingers through, but only once did they snag. Continue reading
Written Tales for Your Eyes 