Pockets

He has a pocket over his left kidney. A big, spacious pocket in his coat, on his back. What sweet hell is this? I count at least seven deep, useful pockets on his green cargo pants, and his hands are fully tucked into the two front pockets of his jacket. I, wearing the same amount of clothing have two pockets in total – two! – in my jacket. He looks comfortable and at ease and I selfishly linger on his seven pockets. He has wireless ear buds in, heavy, shit-kicking work boots, and a worn baseball cap. He looks to have either a smart watch or a health tracker on his left wrist. His hair is dark brown and tufts out the back of his hat just a little. His back is to me so I can’t catch the color of his eyes, but when he glances over his shoulder I can see he has a thin little mustache and a small patch of hair on his chin.

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