Head up proudly, belly sagging, he didn't look around. Straight he walked before us who waited on him, gave him precedence, awaiting his pleasure as he crossed the street.
Slicked back, short back and sides, his plastic glasses case clipped onto his shirt pocket. Long socks, long shorts, long on image, brittle image, short on confidence.
This man I saw...? I didn't really see him. Just his ghost passing by.
Somewhere else... or Back to HQ
© Farmer 26 January 1996