All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. ’ But I made sure it was you.
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