The man wears a soiled and much-patched quilt like a hooded cloak. His bedraggled hair and haggard face are all you can see of him besides bare feet and a few crooked fingers. You watch his eyes roll about, seeming to search for someone without ever seeing you. Then, he crooks his head to the side and whispers vehement words you don’t quite catch, seemingly accusing the empty air of some slight.

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