Strutting his way through the school corridor, I peered at him from beneath my eyelashes. His floppy curls bounced about in a tangle on his head whilst his slit-like eyes that peeped from underneath his bushy, black eyebrows darted in a different direction each second. Alarmed, I assume? The peculiar character’s parrot-like nose, placed neatly below his eyes, twitched as if the stench of rotten meat had wafted into his wide nostrils. He twisted his plump, lightly-tinted lower lip between his thick thumb and forefinger. I noticed the fresh, raw skin that peeked above his exceedingly deep-cut fingernails. An ashen complexion like that of a corpse, he had no hint of maturity except for the peach-fuzz that stood out awkwardly above his upper lip.
‘A Person Whom You Think is a Misfit’ by Safa Aman
Head, as prodigious as an enormous wrecking ball itself, was cautiously balanced on his stocky, pallid neck. He seemed to have dug his gaze into the ground as shrill laughter broke out in the near distance. It was moments later when realization hit me that he was being ridiculed for his queer mannerism. The eccentric character quickened his pace and swayed his heavy-looking, hefty arms effortlessly from side to side. Other than his short, stubby legs functioning at a higher rate, he paid no heed to their comments. A bottom, the size of two planets, and a stomach, about as huge as a punching bag, jiggled gently at a constant speed — even I had to suppress my laughter.
As the flabby boy neared me, the fact that I had had my eyes glued to him was obviously registered. Out of embarrassment, I decided to pass a sheepish smile when the boy did something that I least expected. His face brightened like that of a shining star and his crooked feet now directed themselves towards me. His tiny, gap-filled set of teeth poked out as he struggled to climb on the table that I was seated on. He had found a friend.