Harry sighed while walking around the neighbourhood yet again. Sometimes he wished he could just relax. He was tired, he was hungry and he felt fucking weak. And, of course, he needed a break to fight off the dizziness every once in a while, so that wasn’t exactly improving his mood either.

But he needed to keep walking. He knew that he had eaten way too much just now. And there was no way everything had come out. And so he kept walking on his shaky and tired legs. He wanted to lose weight. No, he needed to lose weight. He was disgusting!

And so he kept going. Every time he considered going home to give his tired body some rest, he remembered the stretchmarks on his belly. He thought about the way his fatrolls jiggled when he walked. He thought of his shirt rising up to show just how fat he was because it had become too small to cover his full stomach.

And so he sighed and kept going. Even though his thighs hurt from rubbing against each other in his too small sized jeans. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were chafed to the point of bleeding down there. He kept going. Even though feet had blisters on top of blisters as big as his thumb. He walked on with a sore throat that desperately wanted water to ease the ache caused by stomach acid, bowels that were cramping with constipation and a heart racing like he was flying against a Hungarian horntail again.

He kept going until the next dizzy spell hit and he suddenly found his vision narrowing, his ears ringing, his legs giving out and his mind going blissfully blank.