He wore a once former white dress shirt, now stained with blood, that had its top three buttons undone to show a built (s/t) chest. Silence was kept throughout the town except for the clicking of a dress shoe’s heel and the spinning of a revolver noise coming from a (h/c) haired teen in a suit, well partly a suit. We were all moving into a building where we could bunker down for the night. Throwing my hat into the High school of the Dead.
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