[hr][INDENT]6:00AM - THE SHALLOWS
[I]Tuesday 8th September, 2015[/I][/INDENT][hr]
A bead of sweat, glistening in what little light was able to pass through the filthy window, slowly slid down Matthieu's exposed forehead, his dark hair pulled up into a loose topknot. His vertebrae crunched and popped as he drew his arms up high, then twisted to the side and opened them in a wide, welcoming embrace. He had practiced yoga for several years, and this [i]Dancing Warrior[/i] sequence was always his favourite part of the routine. It required a lot of balance and he felt it was a good mix of physical exercise and mindfulness. 

His morning proceeded the same way it always did. After rolling up his mat, he took a long, hot shower and then got himself dressed for the day ahead. Taking the heat into consideration, he pulled on a thin black vest with a Ouija board print, paired with a long flowing cardigan and skinny jeans that lead down to a pair of deliberately battered combat boots. He pulled his hair back into a tight bun to keep it out of his face, grabbed his bag and headed out the door. 

There was a welcome breeze as he stepped out into the street, but it brought with it the stench of the marshland on the outskirts of town. He wrinkled his nose in disdain and found himself marching double-time towards the bus stop. As he rounded the corner of the block, he dug into his pocket for any loose change he was carrying. Matthieu was a fan of routine, and part of that routine involved offloading his unwanted shrapnel to a local tramp. He was basically a fixture in this neighbourhood, propped up against [i]Del Rey's Convenience[/i] with his tin can morning, noon and night. That was, until this morning.

Matthieu stopped for a moment, pondering the situation with a quizzical look on his face. In all his time here, Matthieu could not remember a single instance where the tramp had [i]not[/i] been in his spot. Where was he? Matt hoped nothing bad had befallen the old man, before the repugnance of the swamp filled his nostrils once more and he hurried into the convenience store. 

"The usual, Matt?" came the thick drawl of Del Rey, the business' proprietor. He was fat, balding and Hispanic; his old shirt was, like most things in this part of town, tattered and stained. Matthieu nodded politely, taking a pack of gum from the shelf.

"Yes please, Mr. Rey," he confirmed, placing the gum on the counter as Del poured Matthieu a large black coffee in a paper cup from a coffee machine at the rear of the store. "Say, Mr. Rey, where's ze old guy?" he asked, his French accent slipping out a little stronger than usual and alarming himself. Del seemed not to notice; Matt assumed that other people just accepted he had an accent, and when it came across strongly they didn't notice the way he did.

Del just shrugged. "No clue, my friend," he said, a smile on his face. "As long as he ain't making my shop front look messy, I ain't bothered." Matthieu nodded, declining to comment that the tramp's presence was the least scruffy element of the store's face. "That'll be two bucks." Matt paid the money and headed out the shop, sticking the tab of the plastic lid on his coffee down with some chewed up gum. An old trick but one that worked well. He paused outside the store to light up a cigarette and eyed the spot where the old man would usually sit. Something unnerved him about this...

He enjoyed his first cigarette of the day as he walked what little distance remained to the bus stop and sipped his beverage as he waited for its arrival. He pulled out his phone; it was an iPhone 3GS, which was not the most modern model by any means but it served him well... He wasn't broke, but he didn't have extra money to be spending on the latest gadgets. With no job and his savings gradually dwindling, he had to watch his money. As he flicked through various social networks, he soon discovered that there was to be a party down at the park that evening. It looked pretty major; heck, it seemed like every platform was saturated with endless promotion for the event. 

As the bus arrived, Matt flashed his travel pass to the driver. As he sat on the torn seat that would take him to his second term at the New Lilith College Academy, Matthieu tossed the idea of attending the party around his head. Maybe it could be fun. Nah, it'd be full of douchebags from Bayside. He could just see them now, an endless sea of clones fistpumping to some low-grade dubstep under the bridge... 

He looked down at the Facebook event on his phone. His thumb hovered over "Can't Go" for a moment, before he hesitantly hit "Maybe". It could be fun...