He grabbed himself the best of clothes he could wear, as the distance of which the omnibuses would take was around under a hundred miles but more than seventy, of which he knew might take a day or two in order to reach their new house, and eventually the new track of their beings. He checked his very closet with his hands on the handle and his eyes seeking for something quite remarkable for the eyes of the brits, as he knew he wanted to be one of which would be looked upon by others of different nation and let their very lips drool with their own saliva: something he never thought would even happen even with the greatest of efforts.
He swung his elbow towards his back and he saw a pair of clothes of which he would really like to wear and he foresaw something walking down Britain streets with them and with the high-est of finesse he could bring with his face and eventually down his boots.
Beyond his eyes were underpants, black dress pants which paired with a black dress shirt, a dark gray-to-black vest, a gray necktie and a gray trench coat and a cream-white pocket square right onto the top of the cabinet's shelf. He was satisfied of how he would like with his polished black leather boots and a very done clothing, ironed by his very mother and the fact that it felt just like a dream, a very good one inclined to the eustress of his mind's product and the acquisition of his body had led into something quite remarkable, and he continued.
He reached into the window inside his room and drawn the curtains down until the only thing coming through his white curtain-covered windows was light itself, and he want afront the open cabinet of which his clothes were hanging like butchered chuck waiting to be cut even further as buyers would suffice themselves with foods that were hunger-relieving. He took off the pink towel he used to pat himself dry and let it lying down the floor sprawled like a hungry cat, and he grabbed the underpants. He leaned towards the cabinet closer with his right foot tip-heeled unconventionally while retaining his balance which had proven that he was a master of doing his time and his actions in a very accordance.
He got the underpants unto his hand and wore it immediately. He first lifted his left foot, leaving his right heel merely touching the wooden floor and he stood like a single-legged flamingo across the vast plains, as handicapped he felt.
One hole of the underpants had gotten past his left limb, and he did the other unto his right of which he had encountered little to no balancing jesters at all unlike the other, and the latter had made his second pass longer as it should had been.
His crotch was then covered with fabric and he grabbed a plain shirt which had been folded for days, unfold it and he wore it gently with his hands through his head down to his abdomen. He fixed the short sleeve of the shirt and he grabbed the dress shirt neatly with his hands right after and unbuttoned it one by one from the neck down to its base and wore the sleeves one after the other, from left to right.
The sleeves were hugging his arms after one got the other and he reached for the buttons in the front of his chest. He grabbed the first button from the top with his fingers and he put it under the fabric with a buttonhole, slit it through the hole and he had done buttoning the very top, of which he found the littlest of difficulty so he moved towards the mirror inside his room and stood right in front of it, looking at himself with his legs half-naked and his crotch which had curved his underpants, but he had not given the quietest of bothering into. He continued buttoning his dress shirt from the very top down to the bottom, all of it getting buttoned while his eyes were locked tight towards his very body being reflected perfectly on the other side of his sight back to the mirror, and he looked very well. He even checked if the buttons were in the right place as their buttons'. For, absolutely, he would look like a dumb guy walking around the Britain streets with his shirt drooping unto the other one like sagging trees of which hammocks were hanged for a very long epoch of time.
And his dress shirt was fine as it should be, and he buttoned the tip of his sleeves and went on to check if the sleeves still had the length of his arms from his very shoulders into his wrists, and it still fitted the way it used to be for months because he thought of getting larger. Larger than his very self upon setting down and led adrift by the very tides into Britain, and so he was now in Britain.
"You look better than your father, honey," said the calm voice of his mother which never sounded like she wanted him to get dressed fast, and he replied back with a smile on his face while looking unto himself at the very mirror, about to take the tie from his bed, until his thought process worked. He realized that the very calm voice of his voice had come and resonated from the very back of his head, where the mirrored Micael was looking at.
It was coming from his closet where he got his clothing from, which sent him aquiver. He told himself which was loud enough for his mother to receive and decode in the latter with the slightest of his voice airing out form a part of his lungs: "Mother?" and his voice followed gently with his body turning around to look at the place where he was sure that the voice came from somewhere even the unintelligent being could blabber an accurate answer based on the harder reality one, like Micael, had himself another dimension to put himself into. With the squeak of the floor from his bare foot sole and heel getting a lot of contact with the floor gave him the momentum to fully turn himself from the mirror and his eyes were locked tight from the cabinet which had opened slightly and quite unimagining.
His right started to lift itself up from the floor and step forward slowly, which followed by the foot, and the other, while his eyes were straight ahead the cabinet. His stomach started to turn around, too. He could feel the slightest feeling and urge to gag on his wooden floor but was curious enough to neglect his feeling, and he continued walking slowly, and voices started running again inside his mind, let alone the very writing of which he kept hidden inside his box, but the box was gone. Had the box been brought by his mother into the omnibuses? He did not know and asking the quite voice of his mother would never be the greatest idea sprouted from his mind, either. And so, he kept his mouth shut.
...