While waiting for a mate of mine to meet up at a nearby McDonald's, a distinctive stranger stood by me, twirling his fingers and adjusting his glasses as he stood idly by. I couldn't help myself but study him for a bit (a bad habit I'm slowly developing). The hairs upon his head were slightly maturing into a bald state, where dark spots are just now beginning to appear. Buggy eyes were showcased due to the large size of his glasses, in which he would, as aforesaid, constantly adjust. Yet his most peculiar aspect was his tendency to check one of his fingers. I, too, glanced over at his finger that he was so eager to frequently play with. A sad disposition, I would suppose, for his silent lisp and gigantic lower mouth would slowly move as diminutive syllables of lost words were spurting out, entirely indistinctively. As with many tourists, visitors, and residents, I have no notion as to who exactly they are. Random scenarios pop into my head, sad and terrorizing lifestyles plague my imagination, but reality seems to make it all anchored as it abides by its casual state of existence. I never got to see this loner among us - my friend arrived approximately three minutes later, leaving me to part ways from the stranger, albeit I didn't see him enter a bus. That aspect was never witnessed.
I named him Michael, because he reminds me of someone from my past.
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