Posted Thu Jul 20, 2017 | 184 Words | Tagged story workie

In the alley in the back of his house, where he’d normally walk on his way to walk was a fairly worn piece of orange clothing. It looked like it had just been abandoned. It looked clean enough, and having a quick glance in either direction there was nobody around.

He decided to try it on, just to see if it fit. Surprisingly it did, and it felt kinda nice. He felt like wearing it at least part way to the shops. Sometimes he did with bits of hi vis he found, and this looked quite a decent piece.

Getting down the bottom of the road, he started to think, what did he actually want from the shop? He couldn’t remember, and thinking started to hurt a little. While he was trying to think, his arms started inflating and his t-shirt shortening into a vest.

He could slowly grasp what he was doing. Installing equipment. He had his van round the corner.

Fuck he knew he was hot. Knew if he was lucky he’d be installing something else to some on his list today.