His fingers comb through his hair; it’s usually a tree-bark-brown, but hours of mowing the lawn in the sun have brightened it to a tawny hue, like a lion’s mane.
The future is only grim because people see it that way. It’s unpredictable. Life is a summer storm of insecure thoughts. There’s an umbrella of precautions to prevent insecurity, but it doesn’t always keep the rain out of your face.
