Scenes for future stories.

Gavin

         I sat down in my A. P. European History class, placing my grocery bag of candy on my desk. Most of the girls and a couple of the guys rushed over to snatch a few chocolate eggs from the mass I had bought. I never missed out on an after-Easter sale.

         Gavin, the guy who sat next to me, strolled to his seat, grabbing a handful of the milk chocolate goodies as he sat. His thick brown hair hung loosely over his eye brows and he brushed it aside and smiled at me as he popped a mini Cadbury cream into his mouth.

         He wasn’t particularly tall; he was barely six foot, but he had one of those over-developed upper bodies, and it was just starting to soften with Gavin’s lack of the physical activity of football. His abdomen had become smooth with a soft layer of fat, and it created a little roll when he sat. His face had a soft roundness to it, mostly due to un-lost baby fat.

“I love these things!” he told me, popping two more into his mouth, bulging his cheeks. A little spatter of chocolate appeared at the corner of his mouth when he smiled again. “My mom bought loads of Easter candy for me. I ate, like, all of it yesterday. My gut was, like, bulged out to here.” He gestured with his hands a spot about a foot in front of himself.