He wasn't tall, wasn't short. His blonde hair spiked up, short. I glanced at his hazel brown eyes. Whistling, he came strolling down the street, paused when he saw me standing with a wounded frog in the middle of the road. He raised an eyebrow, not moving. Twenty seconds pass. Nothing happened. This was really annoying me.
"I'm Alice!" I shouted, though there really wasn't much of a distance.
"Grey," he intoduced, coming towards me. I'd shake his hand, but mine is currently occupied.
"Um right," I'm at a lost for words. I mean, he wasn't dashing or anything, but I had no idea what to make small talk about while standing in the middle of the road with a dying frog in my hand. Luckily, he started up again.
"What's with the frog?" he quizzes, and I quickly explain. "Well, it won't do the little thing any good sitting in your hands like that. Follow me, my mum's a vet, she can fix him up quite nicely." I'm wasn't so sure about this, owing to the fact that I've never even seen this guy. I hesitated. Grey recognized the pause, and pipes up, "Hey, you don't even have to come in." I glance at the frog and we head down the street.
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