(no subject)
as she approached him in the corner, she was taken aback by the gaunt, spectral nature of his face: the skin stretched tight as cellophane over the sharp, harsh features; the sunken eyes glowing like dim bulbs nestled within their sockets. but her curiosity got the better of her, and she blurted out,
"what's the matter?"
he exhaled a heavy, vodka-laden sigh, and the way he replied gave her the feeling he was speaking more to himself than to her.
"i remember a time when i could fit all of my life's mistakes right in my back pocket, like loose change or trinkets won at a carnival. but that was then. now i have a whole wheelbarrow-full, and there's no more room in that pocket or anywhere else for me to hide my mistakes where i won't have to look at them. it gets pretty tiring, dragging all that ugliness along behind me with no place to stop and rest. you know?"
she nodded and pretended she understood.