“In the undeniably delicious heat, back against wall and eyes squinting, she has finally become the ‘cool motherfucker’ she always wanted to be. Yet she is so much more than this image projected; she is bursting, squeezed full of brilliant energy. Months pass, little by little He stretches out her dusty cracked wings. As He does this she begins to fade from the only world she has ever known like an old letter handwritten in pencil all the words that once defined her have disappeared and she is left bare. But He carves her a new world, carefully, precisely and without resignation.”
“EEEEuuurgh what the fuck is this shit Rubin! gradually opens her wings? You are such a fag!”
Rubin scowled, snatching the book away from Luther’s judgemental grasp. He had tried his hardest with this piece of creative writing, why the fuck did he show Luther his writing. What other reaction did he expect other than one of ridicule and contempt. Absent-mindedly, Rubin scratched the back of his neck, his uncut nails leaving red marks on his scrawny neck. He stared down at his old battered converses, and tried to contain his humiliation. Utterly unaware of other people’s feelings, and lacking any social skills whatsoever, Luther blindly carried on chattering nonsense.