Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Marcus Cook was staring into the mirror, and smiling, something that used to be a rare sight. However, a shift in lifestyles for him was beginning to pay off. He stared into the mirror at a muscular man, with broad shoulders, who stood at 6'2". He was wearing a black collared shirt, that fit his form tightly. The polyester cotton blend looked good on him, as he finished buttoning the article of clothing. His hazel green eyes stared into themselves, before he looked himself over. His brand new pair of blue jeans had a straight fit, a dark navy colouring and boot-cut trim. He had also invested in a new pair of shoes, a simple pure black pair of runners, but they looked good.
He then looked at the work he had done on his head. He had styled his hair, for once, nothing over the top but a simple, slight sweep to the side of his bangs, except for the few loose strands that seemed to always drape over his forehead. His hair was somewhere between an auburn and a dark brown, as it almost seemed there was a tint of copper in an otherwise dark hair. He scratched at the small chin-strap type beard he had let grow. He was clean shaven, everywhere, except for the little patch that lived on his chin. He smiled as he stopped playing with it and took a deep breath. He fiddled with his belt one last time, made any more adjustments that needed to be made before looking at himself in the eyes, and assuring himself, "You can do this."
He stepped out of his small apartment, closing the door behind him, and leaving his life behind for a night. He walked down the streets, he wasn't going to be driving tonight. He planned on getting far too drunk to even think about driving, and it wasn't too far from the Black Bear, the local pub. He walked for 15 minutes, looking up at the night sky, praying the clouds would stay away, despite contradicting weather reports. He stepped up to the door, stepped through it and thought to himself, 'Here we go, the first night of your new life.'
He then looked at the work he had done on his head. He had styled his hair, for once, nothing over the top but a simple, slight sweep to the side of his bangs, except for the few loose strands that seemed to always drape over his forehead. His hair was somewhere between an auburn and a dark brown, as it almost seemed there was a tint of copper in an otherwise dark hair. He scratched at the small chin-strap type beard he had let grow. He was clean shaven, everywhere, except for the little patch that lived on his chin. He smiled as he stopped playing with it and took a deep breath. He fiddled with his belt one last time, made any more adjustments that needed to be made before looking at himself in the eyes, and assuring himself, "You can do this."
He stepped out of his small apartment, closing the door behind him, and leaving his life behind for a night. He walked down the streets, he wasn't going to be driving tonight. He planned on getting far too drunk to even think about driving, and it wasn't too far from the Black Bear, the local pub. He walked for 15 minutes, looking up at the night sky, praying the clouds would stay away, despite contradicting weather reports. He stepped up to the door, stepped through it and thought to himself, 'Here we go, the first night of your new life.'