bookish
I hated the way his whiskers smelled when he pressed close to me. A mixture of tobacco and mushroom soup. I wasn't sure what sickened me more. The look of him or the smell of him. Either way I was doomed.
I looked up and squinted my eyes. I'm one of the few people in the world not in love with sunlight. It hurts me. I would rather sit in the shade or walk in the rain or just stay out all night. I must be photosensitive or something.