Name: Davis Miles
Davis is clean cut with wavy Auburn hair and an athletic build. His skin is clear from blemishes and he is exactly 50% percentile in both height and weight. He prefers to wear suits or at least collared shirts at all times
From an early age, Davis was determined to be as perfect as possible to appease his overbearing father. He made sure eat right, wear nice clothing and stay in shape. The one thing he could not do was make sure his grades were good due to dyslexia. He only learned of it after he was out of school when it was too late.
By this time appearances became his obsession and he measured all his food, never ate out, and bought only the nicest clothes. He learned to cook well for himself, only healthy food. He hadn’t eaten candy since he was 10 and he looked down on soda drinkers the way most people looked at smokers or rapists.
All this came at a price. He spent every penny on food and clothing and lived in a tiny apartment on the bad side of town. It was perfectly neat, of course, but he had no real possessions apart from some books and a cell phone. He didn’t even own a TV or computer.
He worked as a salesman at Best Buy and made not enough money for his life, but in his fashion, he considered money worries beneath him. He had a terrible time dating, finding other people’s habits disgusting and their lack of proper care for themselves sad. Even if he found someone he could affordn’t to date anyway. He would never admit it but he was lonely.
Then one day a woman came into the store. She wore casual clothes, jeans, and a t-shirt. She had a nose ring and bright pink hair. Her appearance horrified him, but she asked for help picking out a TV from him. He explained the different models and she cracked jokes, smiled and laughed. She seemed so relaxed and interesting despite her obviously bad clothing and health choices.
As she left that day, he punched out early and followed her. He watched her go into an expensive apartment complex with her purchase. Every day for the next month he searched until he spotted the window of her apartment. He tracked her to work and found she was a head programmer by stealing one of her cards. He had no idea why he was so obsessed with her.
Then one day as he hid behind some trash cans he heard her voice from behind. “Why the hell are you following me? You’re dressed to the nines, which is odd for a stalker.”
He turned and saw her looking at him, arms crossed with a taser held in one hand. He felt sweat form on his brow as he tried to find a way to explain himself.