I was thinking of starting a story like this:
There was he hated most in this world. Boredom, heat, Mondays, and odd numbers. All of which seemed to compile into one day. At least someone up there has a sense of humor.
Boredom nagged at him like an ingrown toenail. He leaned casually against the wall of building that used to be a train station that had burned down almost a century ago. The sun relentlessly shined down upon his pale skin, burning him with its rays of heat. How he hated summer time. The word Monday kept informed him that he should have stayed in bed today. But being the idiot that he was, he took the risk of sunburn, boredom, and walking down Third Street...on a Monday. He should have ignored his hunger pains .He wondered why even bothered to go to work today.
He inhaled the toasted air to sigh. Luckily he had managed to pick his clothing with some intelligence. A white t-shirt was worn loosely over a pair of faded blue jeans, along with comfortable black tennis shoes. Today he wore his onyx locks in a disarray on top of his head and slightly in his red orbs.
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But I don't know if I should....