The Photograph

Posted on by NicoLite Великий

<- an offer I couldn’t refuse

I turned the picture to look at the stranger’s face again.

A tan complexion; short, salt and pepper hair; receding hair line; middle aged, light wrinkles on the forehead and cheeks; pointy face, short chin, clean shave; bright blue eyes form a piercing gaze, combined with the bushy brows and pronounced ridges, and a thin, beak-like nose. His collar mimicked a military uniform, but there were no insignia of rank visible.

I memorized the face, which was not difficult, given the discomfort I felt just looking at the picture. The picture itself went into the bin.

I had a vulture to track and dispose of, and only three days’ time.

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I studie(d) cultural anthropology after flunking physics. Most people I meet are intrigued by my inherent harmless weirdness, though it is often difficult to follow my train of thoughts, let alone jump onto it. I blog to entertain people with this weirdness, and possibly learn more about myself (My Mind is just one weird train station. 'Tis only an analogy. I am not particularly fond of trains)