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He walked fast, the vacant sky high above him, he kept walking quickly, startled by the cold air.
He watched the lassies that walked past him. Some met his gaze. Some were beautiful. Others grotesque.
He was ready to flee. He wasn't sure about this. What was the etiquette for dates these days anyway? She had suggested meeting up, perhaps she ought to pay.
Maybe he could suggest this, brusquely co-erce her into buying both tickets. She would either of be appalled and leave or she may even acquiesce. He was indifferent anyway. He had nothing to lose.
Maybe she could pay for things, buy him things. In certain scenarios her insecurity and eagerness may prompt her to do other things he wanted. Heh heh heh heh heh.
No, he was kidding of course. His black sense of humour. Shared or comprehended by few.
Or was he kidding. Perhaps this weird jesting was a portal to his true nature, i.e. sociopathic, narcisisstic etc.
As he walked, he wrote a book in his head. This was an unfortunate tendency he had where he concocted what seemed like marvellous wee passages of prose during the act of bi-pedal locomotion i.e. walking.
The trouble was, was that he forgot the damn fucking things by the time he got hame!