Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, constrained by a sentence limit (high and low) of six, there are worse ways to spend the remaining time you have on earth.

Previously…

Prompt word:

WARRANT

Regardless of his age, the Sophomore was young; as is the case with most members of the human race, at his stage of life, he was good at a lot of things and less so at others, this was not an indicator of a failing in character, effort or moral fiber, it’s just how it is with the majority of young people.

Despite her age, Rosetta Storme was not young; there has always been, among those on the wings of a certain Bell Curve, people who were enrolled in what could best, if not somewhat poetically, be described as an AP course in Life; while not necessarily recognized by most college Boards of Admission or corporate Hiring Committees, such young women and men always stand out, often despite their best efforts to the contrary.

The Sophomore watched as Rosetta Storme got out of his bed in (her) all-together, walk to the bathroom, turn on the shower, continue to the kitchen to start his Mr Coffee then return to shower for ten minutes… infatuation, an insidious condition endemic in a certain age group was stirred into virulent life because of a single interrogative.

“Hey, I’m gonna borrow this shirt, you don’t mind do you?”

Watching her standing at the end of his bed, wearing only his favorite white shirt, the Sophomore didn’t stand a chance; his lack of response taken, not so surprisingly, as warrant for her appropriation.

The pheromone and hormone maelstrom raging within the young man absorbed, as fuel, even the twinge of dissonance as Rosetta proceeded to get dressed; barely noticeable along the inside of both thighs, very faint lines in uncertain, parallel rows.