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How To (Not) Make Friends. (OPEN)

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1How To (Not) Make Friends. (OPEN) Empty How To (Not) Make Friends. (OPEN) Wed Nov 11, 2015 7:41 pm

Albert Camaieu

Albert Camaieu
Winter was coming. No matter how much one enjoyed the cold weather, it was still a sad fact that the colours of Autumn would soon fade into white; with this white would come to the cold, yet the cold also carried with it a certain sense of dread and discomfort perfectly juxtaposed to Albert's love of it. After all, when the weather was as it was slowly but surely turning out to be, one couldn't help but get sick regardless as to how many layers they happened to have on at any given point in time.

Luckily (or perhaps, unluckily) for Albert, it seemed that once was enough. One particularly heinous cold or flu was all it took for his body to get used to the season and thus, anything else he contracted would have been fairly normal in comparison. Sure, his body temperature would have been below normal, but at the very least he wouldn't have felt any worse than normal over it if only he could get over that one, irritating little hump.

And so it seemed on this particular day, that if it was not quite occurring then it would be soon. Venturing out into the courtyard in his typical fur-trimmed jacket, the apathetic youth glanced around in the hopes of finding someone -or something- even remotely worthy of his attention. Each movement was something comparable to a rusted machine, for it seemed sluggish and sub-par even when compared to his normal mannerisms.

Sighing, he planted himself on a bench and seemed to wait, occasionally glancing up and down the path as if waiting for someone when obviously waiting for no one in particular. In an attempt to look "normal," the student glanced at the colourless skies and then let out a few small coughs, simultaneously wondering if perhaps he should have remained in his dorm as he usually did on this particular day. Would sleeping off the cold -again, he wasn't sure if it had begun climbing toward its peak or was merely coming rather than in any sort of force- help? Or should he have merely forced himself into some situations rather than trying to sleep, for sleep was boring?

Exhaling, he ran his fingers through his dark hair and waited.

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