All day long, he lugged his ass through roads unknown to man, into gift shops unknown to the spirit of giving. He went through every greeting card ever written and rejected them before his skull read the signals from his eyes. There was nothing in this world worthy of being gifted to the girl he loved. He’d bought a lot of crap though. Mainly in the hope that a theme will emerge as he buys more shit, and partly due to the psychotic fear that someone will buy them off by the time he returns to get it. A gun that lit up with blinding colors and made noises like a kid imitating Rambo grunts. A pair of blue gym gloves that looked badass with the gun, if you looked at them right. A Krrish mask, to cover the eyes in a badass, criminal, non-Krrish way. A couple more guns. A couple more masks, to cover the true superhero identity of the wearer. A metal knuckle, an eye patch, and a huge-ass empty Drawing Sheet that he struggled to fill through the day. With curses, stick figures, and sweet nothings.
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