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Post by Kenneth Nimrod on Feb 20, 2011 20:41:51 GMT 1
It was starting to get dark. Soon, Kenneth would be able to remove his thick clothing and mask. The doctors told him that he had to wear a mask everywhere now, and that if he wasn't careful, he would have to cover up in his office, too. He frowned; he wanted to live. He didn't want to be cooped up. He had long ago decided that as soon as they had found a cure for his illness, he would quit as head of NimCorp, take a big pension, and give the company to someone else.
The sun was setting - through the specially designed glass holes in his mask, he saw the fiery incandescent glow receding below the ocean line. He had the whole night ahead of him. His condition wasn't serious enough that he had to cover up when the moon was out, and he estimated that he had another quarter of an hour before it'd be ok.
Not that he had anything planned. Kenneth didn't have a social life - the dingy clubs of the city weren't his scene, and the high-class parties on greedy people's country estates were dull.
He preferred to spend his time with a sketchbook, or a model. Kenneth loved models - they kept his hands busy. But something that enthralled him even more than the simple delight of putting something together, or seeing an image slowly unfold before him, was watching the stars. If asked, Kenneth could recite the names of all the stars visible in the sky. After he had learned the names, he never used star maps - they were committed to his memory. Instead he simply gazed.
There was such romance in those glowing orbs, such a passion in their soft, sparking light. Kenneth figured that the love of the stars was the only love he would ever need. |
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