“It’s going to snow,” she remarked, in response to Daniel’s suggestion that they go tobogganing after breakfast. The sky filling the window behind his head was gunmetal grey. He sat facing her, perched, with one foot on the floor, the other leg tucked beneath him, on his side of the bed. At her less than enthusiastic comment, he looked every inch the moody, misunderstood beatnik, with his penetrating green eyes, cat-like in their intensity; longish, dark wavy hair that fell rebelliously across his forehead; and a body starving-artist-thin, dressed all in black.
Sunday Adventure – Fragment #66