Crusty

I must have passed it 3 times before I found the entrance. Heaps of shadows surrounding it. It was guarded by a slightly crusty man with a rugged voice and sweet undertones who probably wasn't supposed to be there. I must have looked like an upstream minnow when I asked what door was which, but he let me swim by.

Once I forked the green inside, I went around to the two door handles between me and my new nest. No Smoking signs posted ominously at every turn. Darkness leaked from inside and a timid, "Hello?" didn't quite escape me, though it's all the same because I was alone.

With a sigh of relief, I sat on the straw, bumping my head as I did so. As an old bagel, it looks okay, but that illusion is shattered as soon as you get close enough to touch it. I wish I had payed attention then to know if the pillow had always been bloodstained, or if I did that.

An incredibly crusty stranger passed through and ate his stale sourdough. He gnarled and chewed and soggy bits of bread fell out of the gages in his cheeks onto the dusty, crusty carpet, tainted. Muttering to himself, he showed his mouth all friendly-like and pointed to a map of the city to prove that he belonged.

Author's Note

This is the first draft. Thoughts? Constructive feedback is always appreciated :)