Sunday, June 14, 2015

Dirty Laundry 52

Today I met the Rooster.

I was coming back from the grocery, and heard a door open at the far end of the hall. Looked up, and there was this guy, dressed in black track pants, a black shirt, flip-flops, carrying his trash.

I looked. Of course. Dude had jet black hair, bit too tan for my taste, okay any tan is too much of a tan for my taste, and a goatee. And from where I was standing, couldn't really see his eyes.  And tall. Can't get over how tall guys are now a days...I'm clocking him at 6foot 4.

He caught me looking. Turned his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder as he slowed down in the hallway, while I stood there trying to get my groceries in.  He waited, hovering in the doorway of the main doors until I closed my apartment door.  Then I watched him through the peeper for a few long seconds as he just, hovered as if waiting before heading out. Big ass grin on his face.

I've seen him pass by my window at night, always with a different chick on his arm. Never seen him in the daylight.  Here's the thing, he didn't need to go marching through the whole building to get outside to the trash shed. He could have gone through the doors by his end of the building, which is closer.  Something tells me he's the kind of guy who likes to be seen every chance he can get.
And the big thing, he's like the only man in this city who doesn't seem to bathe in the same cologne. Every guy who lives in this city seems to just roll around in that Axe stuff that was popular a decade ago everywhere else on the planet. But the Rooster, doesn't. 

A sign of class, or just really great taste?

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