Meet Don, 30 years old. He's about 5 feet 6 inches tall, short compared to the rest of his clan. If you were kind, u would call him broad shouldered. If you weren't, you would approximate a rectangle.
He likes taking walks in the summer sun just as much as in the pleasant rains. So you would find him nicely bronzed off on a good day and badly sun burnt on others. The first thing everyone noticed about his hair was never the color. You just saw that there seemed to be too much of it on that little head of his. But for purposes of your imagination it was coffee grounds brown. If you met his eyes, which you inevitably did, because he always did talk that way, was a softer ice tea brown.
Before he starts sounding like one of those stock photos on the internet or a safe date on an internet dating website, let's see what Don was getting upto now. He was sitting on the edge of his seat on the 10:30 subway going downtown. "Ping!" went his phone. He scrolled through it absentmindedly.
"Not another of these reports!" he thought to himself," I should never have subscribed to this alert service." Though it wasn't really much of a choice anyway. His job as a hot shot financial expert demanded this at a minimum. He had never borne the brunt of a bubble bursting around him, but it would be good to be in the loop when it did.
So, now that he was 30, in fact that very day was his birthday, Don was thinking very deeply about nothing in particular. Especially not what he was going to do next. He wasn't much of a philosopher, but he hadn't gotten away unscathed from the kind of situations he had been in. Introspection was dangerous, so he tried not to indulge.
He tried to look fascinated again as he caught sight of the skyline. Another day, another dollar!
