The heat stained unto certain spots of his cheek, forming a line to across his sleeping eye. The man laid on top of unpacked boxes, in a deep sleep. He had a line of drool mixed with digested liquor slide down the corner of his mouth, his blond locks were usually messy, though now it seemed like a hurricane had passed through it, he was still wearing a full suit without a jacket: his white shirt unbuttoned a little and untucked out of his pants, his black tie was loosened, his grey pants appeared intact though it was all the alcohol that drenched it must have dried in his sleep and he wore one shoe, the other was at the entrance of his apartment.
Meet Arthur Kirkland, a 29 year-old English high school teacher in New York city, born in Westminster, England.
The doorbell rang once, which did not wake him up. There was another ring, which made his thick eyebrow twitch a bit. His eyelids emerged open to reveal tired, hurting emerald eyes. A groan escaped his lips as he turned a bit, trying