/lit/ - Literature

(tl'd (hastly) from Spanish)

Anton Stroem was a strange guy. His face was beautiful and handsome, his physique sculpted and svelte, he had blue eyes, and long, voluminous light brown hair that was the envy of any woman. He was calm and pleasant, but knew how to be humurous or serious when the situation called for it. Outside of his excessively apollonian looks and the few times he seemed to lack any kind of common sense, there was nothing of him that could be critized. And this fact wasn’t accidental, but rather, his persona as a whole was deliberate.

It ocurred that young Stroem had a simple yet aberrant dream: to marry a redhead. It wasn’t because redheads themselves were to his liking, but due to his near fetishistic obsession with the color orange. He drank almost exclusively orange juice, all his meals had carrots, pumpkin or sweet potatoes, he loved spaghetti with meatballs, and as dessert he always mango or tangerine. Just because of the color of the balls he played basketball every other day.

He’d had this atraction since he remembered and although, and although he hadn’t understood it, he hadn’t questioned it either, so he’d just accepted it as natural, though he knew feeling drawn to a color over everything else was not a normal thing. So with that mindset, our dear Anton had created his life, being sociable and popular, going from girlfriend to girlfriend (none of them a redhead), from romance to romance, winning experience and repute so that, when the right one showed up, there’d be no room for error.

He also happened to practice real magic, but this wasn’t that important, as his real essence laid on what we have already explain; he could very well had been an accountant or businessman, instead of a mage, and he’d have been the same person. But if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have met her.