Erik woke up in his small apartment that he has to himself. He pays for it himself.
"Morning Salem," Erik said as he walked into the kitchen. It was 1:30 PM, which was morning to him.
He waved his hand and the metal food bowl lifted into the air and found itself in Erik's hand.
Salem, the small kitten, rubbed himself on Erik's leg and purred. Erik opened the cabinet and moved his finger so a can of cat food floated and opened itself. The food placed itself in the bowl and Erik waved his hand so it was back where it belonged.
This was Erik's gift. He could move metals. It was a useful gift. He never had to go to an auto shop when he got in a crash. He never had to worry about losing his keys.
And the occasional bullet being shot that he could stop in the blink of an eye. But mostly he could do fillings himself.
Erik wasn't a welder, or a mechanic, no Erik worked at a bar. He worked long, late, mind numbing hours.
He had a couple hours to kill before he needed to get ready for work. So he'd take a shower so he doesn't smell like cigarettes and liquor. Then he'd watch a movie with his cat. If he had time he'd go for a run, then take another shower. Eat then get changed and go to work.
He had to dress in all black. Erik didn't mind, he looks good in black. But it doesn't matter. No one would see him look good.
Yeah, sure people would see him. But no one actually looks at the bartender. Especially if you don't have boobs.
"Bye Salem," Erik said to his only friend. "I'll be back by 6:30."