NEW WRITING:

His stupidly big-flowered shirt was crisp and new. His shorts showed his lightly tanned knees, and his sneakers sighed snugly on his small feet. He looked good - and he knew it. Not too young and angular, not too old and saggy - but sat in the middle of desirability at this moment, at this time, in this space. The morning sun shone through the room, casting his short dirty blond hair as golden, his blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and his full scarlet lips were dampened. He was good, and he knew it. And yet, he sat - unfocused, empty, and adrift.