I’d like to think the sun doesn’t hate me, but my skin would tell you otherwise. Usually after ten minutes under it’s fiery omnipresence, my milk coloring begins to pinken as though spanked by an enormous hand. Don’t start thinking I'm whining, my epidermis is a magnificent specimen, and should be admired for it's growing rarity.
###
It's fun, yes? No? This is from a free write so I'm not exactly hoping for a Pulitzer, but I cannot deny the fact that one would be nice.
