Micah
I walk down the road, wearing black torn up skinny jeans, a black skin-tight T-shirt with the Nirvana smiley and several rips exposing my pale and toned stomach, black (and obviously torn up) chucks, and a leather jacket. As well as a black duffel bag over my shoulder like a back-pack, and my crossbow in hand.
I reach into my back-pocket and pull out a thin metal case, open it, and remove a short self-packed cigarette that resembles a Marlboro red. I flick open my silver zippo and light it.
I glance up the road and see something highly unusual, a car, driving in my direction.