Ozren Rossë

“Working at the car wash, yeah,” Ozren sings quietly along to the R&B song playing on the radio. He’s carrying some buckets of soapy water, replacing the used buckets with the fresher buckets.

Something’s dripping down his back, but he can’t tell if it’s sweat from the sun beating down on him, or water from getting sprayed down with a hose earlier. He chuckles at the memory, shaking his head as the details come to mind. H was bringing out some dry towels and someone thought it’d be funny to spray him down, soaking the fresh towels in the process.

The sound of a car honking get’s his attention. His eyes widen and he laughs. He makes his way over to the familiar car before anyone else can. He grabs the hose and sprays himself as he takes his hair out of the bun he had it in. He shakes out his wet hair like he’s in some kind of swimsuit ad, strutting like he’s walking on a runway. He turns off the hose, once he’s next to the driver’s window. He bends down, smiling at the familiar face. “Hey, baby. Do you want this extra soapy?” he asks in a playful tone. He wiggles his eyebrows as he chuckles.