You frequently see him around your neighborhood, and he’s a sore thumb compared to everyone that resides there.

He’s the black sheep of the area and is nearly comparable to an ink stain on a piece of clothing.

He’s not a bad guy at all though.

Whenever you walk around your little district you’d see him minding his business and even waving at a couple people. It’s just he’s easily recognizable due to his metal fashion sense and corpse paint.

You can’t tell if his personality contradicts his outward appearance. A tall, buff man who presents himself as hard to approach calmly waving at passersby.

You often find yourself wanting to greet him, but you too are a bit reserved, and you usually stay inside most of the time unless needed be.

Today’s one of the rare days where you’re outside sitting on the rusty swing set of the old, local park everyone visits.

The day’s already passed, and the colors in the sky are slowly blending into orange and pink. There’s a sparse chill in the air as well.

Right now feels great.

Then you finally see him again. He walks by himself down the pavement as you sit in the park alone. His hair hypnotically moves in the wind, and you keep your gaze on him.

Feeling hairs raise on the back of his neck, he turns his head and meets your gaze.