The spider...he seems so calm. All he has to do in life is build a web, nab some flies and chill till time does him in...
I blink, still amazed that literature still has a place in my life. Or at least creative outlooking. I pull my bandanna off and use it to wipe some sweat on the side of my head, then a wince. I turn to my left shoulder and sigh. The crimson red scar on my shoulder is still pretty fresh, thanks to this freaking punk with a blade.
"God damnit." I swear quietly. Of course I probably said it louder, seeing as the ipod in my ear is at max volume. That punk wasn't as poor as I though, if he could afford this ipod. I pull the earphones and my ipod out and turn to look at my current surroundings. Heck of alot of people here, the young ones on the right and the older ones on the left. The bus driver's staring at all of us, especially at me though. Can't blame her. I mean what would you do if some punk with a bloody arm walked up to your bus and offered you 20 bucks and letting you keep the change.