the beach scatters coarse sand between his toes. his feet sink and dip into the sand, and it's hot, liquid warmth constant beneath his bare feet. george is running with dream, now, and it's high, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, pure, unadulterated 𝘫𝘰𝘺, because, george thinks, he is 𝘧𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, now. a dnf compilation, mostly written with friends.  votes and comments are highly appreciated !!All Rights Reserved