Rocket: Brain does not want to cooperate. I don't even know where I got this.
Day 3 Prompt: Shoe scuffs
Yellow
Kento grumbled at the large pair of white sneakers on the train floor. He was already in a sour mood and the scuff of yellow shoe polish was not making anything better. Who really used yellow shoe polish, and on top of that, went walking around with wet yellow shoes in Yokohama?
Of course it had to be yellow. It wasn't that he didn't like yellow. Earthy yellows were good. But this… this yellow was screaming at his eyes. The disgruntled warrior of earth cocked a bloodshot eye at the neon stain gracing what was a new left shoe and swallowed the growl in his throat.
A small, balding businessman rolled his puffy eyes up to casually survey the situation. There was a very man towering in front over him… who seemed to be rumbling… and twitching… and maybe talking to his feet. The worst part was, he had no idea what could set him off. Or maybe he just would, like an earthquake. Either way, when the assessment came up unfavorable, he opted for a small bubble of unoccupied space further down the car and with all the soft, slow grace of a deer, turned to push his way through a mass of bodies, briefcase first.
Hardrock didn't fail to notice him go, or the eyes that he sometimes caught before they shied away like fish. Certainly none of them liked the sight of a grumpy man with a hand hooked in a tan leather loop over his head, much less one whose frame was blocking an entire door. Even if he was at ease, talking, joking, people could sense that he was different. In these strange little isolations, he took solace in the notion that the other guys had lived this moment a thousand times, a thousand ways. He let it go and cracked a smile at the electric yellow polish. Plain white shoes were a little boring, anyway.
