I study the man in front of me some more, not being able to place him. It’s a bit frustrating because it’s there….right in front of me. It’s like when there’s a word you’re trying to think of, but you can’t quite grasp it.
He looks well put together, so he isn’t homeless. The scar on his face on his face tells a story that I bet would be fun to listen to. His posture isn’t relaxed, even though it wouldn’t be given the circumstances. It’s more than that, though. It looks like he never relaxes, and that tells another story. “Who are you running from?”
Up until now, his eyes had been roaming all around the room. I could tell he was checking for possible exits, calculating what he could do to escape. My question stopped his eyes from wandering, and he focused right on me. His eyes are wide
