The can, a metal one, the kind a can opener is required if you don’t want a mess on your hands to unseal it, rolls down, and is kicked back up a slope in a dreary, rocky hollow.
It’s empty, hell, it’s even been washed, little droplets of water flinging themselves about the inside and out of the can as the process repeats itsef.
Norisuke, the delinquent kicking the can, looks incessantly moody. Several feet to the left is an empty-ish, crumpled looking wallet (with his ID inside.) Devoid of money, and yet, several things are seen strewn about this little hideout:
A washing bucket,
a washboard,
bars of soap (not with any sort of flowery scent, a good flag of Norisuke’s insecurities)
a portable radio, currently tuned in to some garish metal genre music,
a pot,
tomato seeds,
a shovel,
a metal suitcase with a padlock, resting in a halfdug hole,
beef jerky snacks (some empty, some still sealed)
a box of crackers,
a watering can,
a fishing rod,
an empty bait box,
replacement hooks,
a huge packet of batteries.
It’s empty, hell, it’s even been washed, little droplets of water flinging themselves about the inside and out of the can as the process repeats itsef.
Norisuke, the delinquent kicking the can, looks incessantly moody. Several feet to the left is an empty-ish, crumpled looking wallet (with his ID inside.) Devoid of money, and yet, several things are seen strewn about this little hideout:
A washing bucket,
a washboard,
bars of soap (not with any sort of flowery scent, a good flag of Norisuke’s insecurities)
a portable radio, currently tuned in to some garish metal genre music,
a pot,
tomato seeds,
a shovel,
a metal suitcase with a padlock, resting in a halfdug hole,
beef jerky snacks (some empty, some still sealed)
a box of crackers,
a watering can,
a fishing rod,
an empty bait box,
replacement hooks,
a huge packet of batteries.