fff#20

back in a short to trigger fff#21, but wanted to post my fff#20 attempt before i start hating again and completely revise again for this trigger. people done write #20 so time to get the next trigger up...
flash fiction friday #20 trigger (inclusion): sunny, sandy, wet, warm, limp.

if is 1 thing i hate, is a limp-dick handshake. which is exactly what i get. it was extended and i went brave, reach out and touch, and get somebody slightly sweaty dead hand. instant disappointment. you know one time, this “date” going nowhere.
but we walk to the car, he press the button bleep-bleep and walk straight ‘round to his door. i smile and say thanks and open my door myself. in the car now, we listening to something ambient that have him grooving, but lacking depth for me so i examining+analysing every visible detail to entertain myself. i watching he receding hairline. in side-profile, that shit duck all the way back behind the man ears!
he wearing a striped polo, heavy-looking knit, which might explain the a-c-with-shortsleeves, he must be feeling warm, as evidenced by the clammy palm. his hair, what he have left, have that sandy kinnah finish, probably one of them who start blond and get darker as they get older. good bone structure, strong nose+jaw, powerful arms, but that pale skin doh do it for me. i prefer a nice browning, myself. but he ask nice enough and his timing was good – i was bored enough to accept. but still bored now…
“sunny, as in disposition, or sonny, as in junior?” i hoped it wasn’t junior; the receding hairline was bad enough without irony.
“neither…”
and then we both hear the wet thunk and freeze.
this thunk too loud to ignore, and as we now-nervous eyes make four and he start to pull over i hoping is a dog because otherwise it sound bigger and badder than we prepared for this evening, en route to daybreak to “lime” (for the benefit of blindly-straight friends). he put the car in park, anxious eyes meet again, and in the non-election-season-absence of streetlight i suddenly glad i doh have to be the man this time. and is not my car.
suni(?) open his door and look around, even all up into the already nearly-nude poui branches, and i glad again is not me to man-up this rounds.
he step out the car, leaving the door open, and start scanning the road. i keeping one eye on the darkness ahead and the other on the rearview mirror ‘cause i watch enough movies to know wha’ go on.
then something pass in my peripheral vision, barely inside the rearview frame, pulling my eye into a futile reacharound. i fix full sight on the mirror, defying shadow to define itself. nothing.
by the time i eventually look out at the road again, i was utterly alone.

walk good.