David, a wiry spiny coat hanger of a man that could never fit quite right into any of his clothes even if there were two of him trying. A man who was so unimaginably uninteresting he keeps his tag sticking out of his T-shirt hoping someone will correct him on it and then maybe he can bounce off of that into some sort of meaningful conversation, the subject of that conversation he has yet to decide on. Yet he kept that tag out, constantly, sticking out of what looked to be a navy blue polo his mother bought for him when he was fifteen that he never felt the need to replace because what single young man doesn't want to look like he’s late for fourth period biology? The rest of his outfit was equally uninspiring. He dressed like the ghost of a Sears cashier, gray khakis and scuffed up old shoes with laces that always seemed to untie themselves. His clothes did nothing for his wooden plank of a body that seemed to move like it was caught between a regular pace and a painfully slow indecisive steps. David unsurprisingly lives alone in what basically feels like a glorified closet. His bed was a lonely twin size with green sheets and one pillow. He didn't own many decorations except for a couple of picture frames, an old rug and a few books on a shelf over his bed. He owned a tv but didn't really watch tv, most days it sat picking up dust across the room, or he would put it on to just have something playing in the background. Around the room he also had several model airplanes, ships in bottles and a few board games he kept incase he was to ever have company..he didn't.
Inside of his closet were more painfully boring outfits in a muted rainbow of beige, gray and sad green. The only ounce of color were a pair of red chucks shoved in the back of his closet. They weren’t his, the shoe size was too small. He kept them though, behind his loafers in the dark corner of his closet. Every so often he would kneel down and pick them up remembering when he would watch them walk by him, when they were filled with different color socks, when they would house anklets and rainbow color toe nails. They still had water stains that only seemed to get darker every time he looked at them. Beyond that his apartment was fairly empty, though in this casket of an apartment there was one living thing, a fish. David has owned two fish in the six years he has lived in that apartment, he watched as it swam around, he never named it, in his head he just referred to it as “ fish.” When his first fish died he was fairly devastated and thought of going right away to get a new fish but he thought that it wouldn't be good for his mental health to rush himself so quickly into another pet so he waited a couple months. Whenever he was at home trying to work he would mutter to his fish if he ever got stuck while working on a ship. He would often spend his days completely dressed as if he was going to work or out for coffee with friends and just spend his entire day at home.
In his bathroom there were a few combs he would use to brush through his sleek black hair. Some days he would look in his mirror and imagine he was a socialite, someone heading out for a very important dinner with important people who just couldn't wait to see him and talk all about how interesting he was and how well kept in nails were and how easily he could glide through conversation. Just the thought made him shudder and he would have to take a breath and bring himself back. Really David was a stuttering mess, words were his biggest issues, just saying his name would take him a couple minutes and Lord help him if he ever had to look someone in the eyes while doing it. No David couldn't speak much. Though he longed to, all he wanted was to fill the air with sweet conversation and have someone who would listen diligently, hanging onto his words like fish on a line. For now though the only person listening to him were any unfortunate souls who attempted to ask him a question. Though even then he rarely gets them. Whenever he did they would usually just be people asking for different files at work, to which he would then panic, grab the files and pass them off, regretting not saying anything but relieved he didn't have to.