Kevin was a collector.
It had started when he was 7. His friends had amassed an impressive stack of baseball cards and whilst Kevin wasn’t sporty, the thought of collecting excited him.
Not wanting to become a sheep, Kevin chose his own road. It was unusual to collect discarded cigarette butts, sure, but to Kevin, each held a unique story.
Perhaps it was this sort of behaviour that led to Kevin living alone (or perhaps it was the ferocious addiction to pickled onions?) but he didn’t mind. These days he prefers spending time with his collection of bottled sunshine anyway.
This piece is submitted as part of the Friday Fictioneers group writing. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you did, make sure you go read the other entries this week! Or click this link to read more of my silly stories.
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