Ficly

Cold

“Fuck that and fuck you.” The words echoed in the room and he stared into the heart of a man apparently unclear on the point of a happy ending, but desperate to make his frustration heard. “You call that happy?!” As the man buttoned his shirt and glared, Mass sat. He sat and he thought and he ran through everything that had happened to him that day. He thought about how he was capable of so much more, how his potential was being squandered, and he hung his heavy head. No one came in for the rest of the day. He swept and cleaned. He went to the corner and shut himself down before John came home.

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