The Crocs

Nic sat and draped his right arm on the backrest of the smooth leather sofa. The slightly earthy and sweet scent of the sofa gave out that it was new and made out of good leather. But no matter how good it was, or expensive it was, Nic has never been a fan of leather.

Nic doesn't like the way leather feels cold and the way it sticks to his skin. He prefers his sofa covered with warm and smooth fabric.

But he can't be choosy now, can he? After all, he was only a guest to the owner of the sofa who he guessed just bought it without a thought. They were not the ones sitting there, anyways.

Nic watched Timothy, with hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, standing in front of the multiple computer screens in front of him as if checking if there is something that he missed throughout the night.