Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Man in the Corner of the Pub

There was something strange about the man in the corner of the pub. No specific thing, he just seemed… off.

Not a big man, or particularly imposing, but something about him drew my eye the moment he walked in the door.

He seemed twitchy, like a spring wound too tight. A dark cloud hung over him, as though he was waiting for something or someone to set him off.

To give him the excuse to vent his frustration.

I finished my own beer, free hand resting on the straight razor in my jacket pocket, and wandered over to say hello…

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