Red Brick

The roof of the garage burned under Tom's small feet. The sweltering sun nagged at his head, plastered with the mass of blonde hair. Unfortunately for Tom, his usual mass of golden curls, which on normal occasions made the old women crazy for him, looked seedy, drenched as it was in sweat. On the five year old boy, this and his chubby cheeks was more reminiscent of a fifty-year-old pervert. Thus, Tom had been rejected from his usual haunts.