310 #3

"big bright sky"


He entered in through the side door, in a decidedly hurried pace, more then likely as a means to escape the rain-whipped winds. He was a curious man; mid sixties, grey hair, grey mustache, the development of the old age manifested in his distorted paunch. This was a guy who had a wife and 3 kids and 8 grandkids, but also a guy who masturbated entirely way too much. His days each began with a quick silencing of his erection in quiet confidence of his showers tight-lipped bubble, an ironic ascetic touch to a man not yet convinced that his best years were over.
He hears voices. His knees quiver, and his heart beats faster, faster, fastest.
He knew no one should be in the building, but it was Spring Break and maybe he could get lucky. He followed the ethereal calling, to the second floor. Another side door, but he doesn't care for silence much and whips the door open.
He's right in front of an apartment. His ears are burning with the sounds of two other voices in the building. They were in front of him! Well, behind the door actually. But still. His knees are shaking, and his hands began their beautiful metamorphosis from appendages to greasy, clammy stumps. He rubbed them together, already soaked to the bone from all the sweat.
His ear pressed to the door, the feeling of victory washing over him. He could hear them, they were having a conversation. Two men. Sounded in the early twenties. Yummy, yummy bros. Another quiver. He licked his lips and wiped his brow. They were talking and carrying on per usual, and he was on the other side, looking in the peephole and pressing his ear to the door. The two friends without the faintest idea. This excited him.
In a lot of ways.

The griminess of his hands were the best reflection of the man as a whole.