There was almost nothing about the way Steve looked that couldn’t have been mass produced in a factory. He was smartly dressed in a way that betrayed no personal affection, his short dark curls of his hair greased down and formed into a shape which allowed for minimal upkeep that camouflaged him at his workplace. […]
Gripping the desk in front of him, he began to feel the floor drop away and the world follow with it. He’d read the warning label and understood that this was a possibility, though never believed the would fall afoul of the side effects – they were always something that either happened to other people […]
Stepping onto the bus, he’d remembered how his colleagues had always given him stick over his clothing, through sharp smiles they’d tell him “you look like one of those space men from the black and white photographs we saw!”, “It’s called a bomber jacket”, he’d defend, but they continued to tell him that he’d stand out, that […]