At
this very moment, somewhere in the universe there is an old man with
large, square glasses that make his eyes buggy because of the strong prescription,
and grey, balding hair that sticks out on the sides, crazy looking, like Einstein,
wearing a blue and white striped button down shirt, like pajamas, and matching
pants, that also match the striped slippers that are too small for his long,
cracked and dry feet, his heels hang off the back, his eyes hang as well, they
are surrounded by deep, dark wrinkles making his brown eyes look purple and droopy, and
his hands, his hands are old, veiny, you can see the age in his fingers when he twists the ring that rests on his left index, that is worn and fading, like his
leather watch that is a minute and two seconds too slow. It is 2 AM. He is at Waffle
House eating pancakes.
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