His legs lay sprawled against the floor, his back against the wall.

He knew he had always been a disappointment, nothing more, nothing less. Ever since the day he had been born no one liked him. Why else would he have been abandoned at the fire station? His true parents must have hated him, for reasons he could only guess.

Now his adoptive parents were sorry they had adopted him. If they had ever loved him it had only been for a split second.

His life had always gone that way. The first impression was always perfect but the lasting impression always placed him the the trash folder of people's minds.

He had the looks blond hair, sparkly green eyes,and sculpted body but within in him was nothing remarkable.

He was what people called a blank slate, a person with nothing inside. He wasn't even
so lightly clever as to pretend he did.

He had a dry personality and he didn't care. If you talked to him, it was lie talking to the wall except for the occasional "hmmm...hmmmmm"

People would always tell him, "get a life" which he did but didn't know how.

He got up from the wall and began to walk into the street, right down the middle. He didn't turn back, nor did he look forward, or down or to the sides, he just looked up. And he continued that way until he reached the end and had to turn either right or left.

He turned right, and at the next crossroads left, alternating.

When morning came people swerved to avoid him but none yelled out.

They were all enraptured by his face, his ever up-looking face.

It had a light to it. A strange glow.

And he is walking still.

Still getting a life.