A Day In The Life.

Sean rolled over in his bed and stretched as he stood to look out of the window. The sun shone though and he felt its warmth on his face. Today was going to be a good, productive day.

Glancing around, he bent to pick up his discarded shirt from the floor, and inspected it closely. There wasn't much blood, but there was enough. He was going to have to bleach and burn it. A twang in his stomach told him he felt pity. He'd liked that particular shirt. Throwing it expertly into the basket in the corner of the room, Sean continued into the bathroom. 

Things didn't appear to be too bad; there weren't any scratches or bruises on his face and neck this time around. Minimal lying would be required. He could remember a time before, when he hadn't quite mastered his techniques. She'd only had those plastic nails you stick on with glue, but even so, she'd not gone down without clawing his neck first. The upshot to this was explaining it away as one of his seemingly many sexual encounters. Guys tended to appreciate these stories more than women.

He raised his hands above his head to check his ribcage, and the underside of his arms for any markings. There were none here either. A single thumb sized bruise on his wrist where she'd gripped him before slipping into unconsciousness seemed to be the only evidence of anything that had happened the night before. All in all, things had gone well. 

He turned the shower on, and wandered back into the bedroom to grab a towel. He made his bed,  and moved to the chest of drawers to lay his clothes out for the day. This was always the same routine, which was what Sean liked. What he didn't like was being on the receiving end of surprises. Showering was also a part of the routine. Every morning when he woke up he would wash away any evidence of the night before, no matter where he'd been or what he'd been  doing.  It was important to be meticulous.

Freshly showered and newly dressed, Sean left the apartment, locking the door behind him in three places. He didn't want anyone getting in; he simply liked his privacy. As if he would keep anything incriminating here. Shouting a quick 'good morning' to the elderly Mrs Green as he passed her door, which was always open, he exited the building and began to walk the six blocks to his office building. 

Not having a car meant he had to walk or catch the subway to wherever he needed to be. In the long run it was a bad idea to have a relatively small area to work in, but he would always move, should the notion take him. He smiled at the thought of working his way across the entire state, or even the entire country. It would certainly keep him busy. Most of the tie, he walked or ran places anyway. It kept him fit, something he needed to be to pursue his 'hobbies'.

He paused momentarily to dig some change out of his trouser pocket and drop it into the hat that lay at his feet, before stepping through the doors to the office. 

The End

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