My latest for Micro Bookends. Photo prompt below, bookends (love and craft) and 110 words max, yo. My entry:
Love had a way of tattooing itself to you, like a perverted mutation of melanin.
Bruce was slurping the water traversing down the curb and into the sewer. Down on his hands and knees like a stray dog, the street lamp soaked into his pores.
The streets were the only thing to love him back. So he was fiercely loyal.
For instance, the other day, he saw a man drop a McDonald’s wrapper right there on his street. Bruce did what any person in love would do: he beat the man with a steel-toed boot. His blood ran into the sewers.
It’s the streets where Bruce thrived at his craft.