The old man sits on the porch.
Maryland summers are classified somewhere under humid subtropical and humid continental but all the man feels is the accumulation of perspiration around his temples.
The man in the neighboring balcony smokes.
He had moved in a few weeks ago, and that’s all anyone seems to know about him.
On some days, he is a rather cynical character of piercing stares, loud sneers, and cigarette smoke sputtering out of his mouth when he scoffs.
On others, he’s the elegant, aristocratic gentleman coming back from late night invitations; gold watch, custom Italian suit, easy gait, smooth elevator smiles.
Sometimes, he’s the real life stick figure, with jaundice stretched over his visible bones and shaking hands as he fumbles for …show more content…
Broadway says he’s the greatest performer to have ever stepped foot on stage. He’s been called brilliant. Prodigal. The very definition of what perfection is.
He himself is flawless. Women whisper as he passes; men suddenly shrink under the feeling on inadequacy. His figure is of a model, with long legs, broad shoulders, flawless skin. Full lips give him a natural smirk and thick eye lashes that highlight his dark eyes. A cigarette is almost always perched in his long fingers, smoke twirling and twisting like clouds.
When he dances, people murmur about his perfect form, and power and speed because wow, it’s absolutely perfect. Fouette en tourante, grand plie.
But people don’t see the real him. The real person (is he even one?) who’s actually of weary bones and emaciated lines and bandaged wrists that throws up in back stage bathrooms (“Everyone does it,” he laughs (or maybe cries)) and downs pain killers with martinis because perfection can’t afford to simply eat.
He's woken up in studios before, soles of bare feet smeared in crimson, because perfection doesn't have time to stop. It hurts to move, to breathe, it hurts to turn and the world is always spinning, spinning, spinning.
He just hopes he doesn't
Maryland summers are classified somewhere under humid subtropical and humid continental but all the man feels is the accumulation of perspiration around his temples.
The man in the neighboring balcony smokes.
He had moved in a few weeks ago, and that’s all anyone seems to know about him.
On some days, he is a rather cynical character of piercing stares, loud sneers, and cigarette smoke sputtering out of his mouth when he scoffs.
On others, he’s the elegant, aristocratic gentleman coming back from late night invitations; gold watch, custom Italian suit, easy gait, smooth elevator smiles.
Sometimes, he’s the real life stick figure, with jaundice stretched over his visible bones and shaking hands as he fumbles for …show more content…
Broadway says he’s the greatest performer to have ever stepped foot on stage. He’s been called brilliant. Prodigal. The very definition of what perfection is.
He himself is flawless. Women whisper as he passes; men suddenly shrink under the feeling on inadequacy. His figure is of a model, with long legs, broad shoulders, flawless skin. Full lips give him a natural smirk and thick eye lashes that highlight his dark eyes. A cigarette is almost always perched in his long fingers, smoke twirling and twisting like clouds.
When he dances, people murmur about his perfect form, and power and speed because wow, it’s absolutely perfect. Fouette en tourante, grand plie.
But people don’t see the real him. The real person (is he even one?) who’s actually of weary bones and emaciated lines and bandaged wrists that throws up in back stage bathrooms (“Everyone does it,” he laughs (or maybe cries)) and downs pain killers with martinis because perfection can’t afford to simply eat.
He's woken up in studios before, soles of bare feet smeared in crimson, because perfection doesn't have time to stop. It hurts to move, to breathe, it hurts to turn and the world is always spinning, spinning, spinning.
He just hopes he doesn't