SpawnOfReiter
New Member
The day was sunny yet cool in Savannah, Georgia. There was not a cloud in the sky. Everyone who had a window and noticed the weather took full advantage of the daylight; Diners moved out extra tables onto their sidewalks and porches; Most salons propped their doors open to let the breeze circulate around their customer's legs Boutiques set up a sample table or rack outside their stores to invite the plethora of people populating the practically overcrowded sidewalks inside for their "nice weather sales". Everyone had a good mood face on today.
A fishing box slamming down on the dock stirred 20-year-old Cole Nettler from his once peaceful nap. He sat up and pulled his glasses down to survey the are a. He positioned himself so that his legs were dangling enough for his toes to skim the cool water below and apparently used a book to block out the sun as he noticed his copy of Jane Eyre floating just out of arms reach next to the dock. He assumed this could have only happened after he was startled out of his slumber by the fisherman. Yes, he's only the culprit. He turned to see the fisherman use every ounce of ignorance to not eye contact with Cole as he quickly moved to the other side of the dock.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," his voice was raspy but still maintained a certain softness and charm. He tossed out his phone and watch onto his cloth bag from his pockets, double checking the rest of his person to make sure nothing else was at risk from his next action. He settled his palms down into the dock as he lowered himself in the water, letting go as soon as the level was at chest height. The depth of the water was a tad deeper than 6'2" forcing Cole to kept his legs in motion to stay afloat as he glided over to the now half soaked through book and lifted it over his head. He let the cool water drip over his dark brown locks and buttery skin while he moved back to the dock. He wasn't quite ready for his swim to be over, so he took the book in his mouth and dove under the dock and swam between several wood posts until he was on the other side, splashing up to the surface and loudly slapping the met book down on the planks in front of him. Cole boosted himself up from the water and looked over at the fisherman who was now shaking and slightly dampened who has staring his fishing rod sink to the bottom of the riverbed. Cole lightly chuckled as he picked up his belongings and walked off the dock, through the beach, and onto the sidewalk.
After following along the water-lined sidewalk, occasionally greeting passerbys, he stopped at a shop on the corner of a street that was next door to a flower store that was currently closed.He opened his bag and pulled out keys to begin opening up his coffee shop. He opened the door and casually flipped on the open sign, snagged the towel off a nearby hook, and dropped his keys on the counter, all appearing to be in one quick motion. After stamping off the sand on his bare feet he moved to behind his counter where he continued drying off and opened some drawers containing spare clothing and shoes. He turned on the pre-filled machines and his stereo and he was back into zen-mode. He finally let out a sigh after he quickly changed into a light polo and khaki shorts accompanied by sandals. He added the finishing touch by sliding on his black and red apron with a smile. "Alright, here we go..." he spoke softly to himself and he relocated himself to the front door, now propping it open with a chalkboard stand. He started to smell the coffee vapors leave their pots and out the door and remembered to start working on his food. With a quick glance at his board to remember what he wrote he glided back to behind the counter to begin toiling away to soothing rhythm and blues playing behind him.
A fishing box slamming down on the dock stirred 20-year-old Cole Nettler from his once peaceful nap. He sat up and pulled his glasses down to survey the are a. He positioned himself so that his legs were dangling enough for his toes to skim the cool water below and apparently used a book to block out the sun as he noticed his copy of Jane Eyre floating just out of arms reach next to the dock. He assumed this could have only happened after he was startled out of his slumber by the fisherman. Yes, he's only the culprit. He turned to see the fisherman use every ounce of ignorance to not eye contact with Cole as he quickly moved to the other side of the dock.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," his voice was raspy but still maintained a certain softness and charm. He tossed out his phone and watch onto his cloth bag from his pockets, double checking the rest of his person to make sure nothing else was at risk from his next action. He settled his palms down into the dock as he lowered himself in the water, letting go as soon as the level was at chest height. The depth of the water was a tad deeper than 6'2" forcing Cole to kept his legs in motion to stay afloat as he glided over to the now half soaked through book and lifted it over his head. He let the cool water drip over his dark brown locks and buttery skin while he moved back to the dock. He wasn't quite ready for his swim to be over, so he took the book in his mouth and dove under the dock and swam between several wood posts until he was on the other side, splashing up to the surface and loudly slapping the met book down on the planks in front of him. Cole boosted himself up from the water and looked over at the fisherman who was now shaking and slightly dampened who has staring his fishing rod sink to the bottom of the riverbed. Cole lightly chuckled as he picked up his belongings and walked off the dock, through the beach, and onto the sidewalk.
After following along the water-lined sidewalk, occasionally greeting passerbys, he stopped at a shop on the corner of a street that was next door to a flower store that was currently closed.He opened his bag and pulled out keys to begin opening up his coffee shop. He opened the door and casually flipped on the open sign, snagged the towel off a nearby hook, and dropped his keys on the counter, all appearing to be in one quick motion. After stamping off the sand on his bare feet he moved to behind his counter where he continued drying off and opened some drawers containing spare clothing and shoes. He turned on the pre-filled machines and his stereo and he was back into zen-mode. He finally let out a sigh after he quickly changed into a light polo and khaki shorts accompanied by sandals. He added the finishing touch by sliding on his black and red apron with a smile. "Alright, here we go..." he spoke softly to himself and he relocated himself to the front door, now propping it open with a chalkboard stand. He started to smell the coffee vapors leave their pots and out the door and remembered to start working on his food. With a quick glance at his board to remember what he wrote he glided back to behind the counter to begin toiling away to soothing rhythm and blues playing behind him.