Ficlets

Towel Monster 1

His body temperature is unnaturally high. The thermal clothes and boots he wears should have liquified his insides. But he is resilient [or at least he hopes].

Everything is frozen, probably too early in the year, but whatever. The bent wheels wag and squeal when he rides his cheap bike. Everything is covered by salt and snow and makes a crunching noise under the tires. His breath floats back onto his face when he breathes out. It is warm. The cold wind stabs at his eyes between blinks. This weather is ridiculous, he shakes his head.

A large, oddly shaped building looms before him. If it could chuckle, I bet it would.

Jack rides closer to the building and stops next to a bike rack. He whips the lock he carries around his waist and shackles the old bike to the rack. Jack sighs with irritation before climbing the white stairs leading to the glass doors.

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