Thomas sat on a curb, staring at the laces on his shoe. Anyone who could see him could see that he was deep in thought. Few, however, could guess what about. Even Thomas, himself, might not have been certain. He wiggled uncomfortably in his place. That being the first physical movement he'd made in ten minutes or so, he let out a sigh. After a few more minutes of tranquil pondering, he noticed a slip of paper blow by and get stuck on his foot. Knowing what it most likely was, he picked it up without much vigor. The print on the sheet looked faded and much resembled an old receipt:
"You know you won't like my choice.
With Much Love, "
After the comma was a hole that had been burned into the piece of paper. He put it in his pocket and let out another silent sigh before struggling to his feet. Ignoring his aching back, Thomas turned around and began to shuffle down the street.
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