It was Sunday morning and Skunk was determined not to spent it doing nothing. Not like every other Sunday. Hungover or not, he was getting out bed, getting dressed and going to the grocery store.
He walked two blocks before sitting down. The humidity made it feel ten degrees hotter, even with the sun hidden behind a cover of clouds. He thought about walking back with his bulging plastic bags. How they’d likely split. How he’d stumbled home, his arms full, sweating and thirsty. He stood up and walked another block, talking himself into giving up.
It started to rain.
(31 stories for 31 days in August!)