Idle Frames

“So, you just give up.” “You have given up on yourself a long time ago, Reginald. Don’t blame others for following your lead.”He slammed his fists down on the concrete, flat-side up at first, then the palms of his hands, then knuckles, phalanges next. The thin layers of skin broke, shredded apart, tender muscles scraping across the surface. Blood splatters decorating the dull, monotones of gray and beige, fingers smearing the fluids in circular motions until his lungs gave in and he fell to his side. Curled up into a ball, a heap of misery in the flesh—quite literally.