He did not appear happy she had found him here among the forgotten, in fact, quite the opposite. His rage became incendiary, reddening his neck and the skin on the back of his hands. An acrid odor wafted through the room, and she could not be sure if he had again taken up smoking, or if someone had removed a cheap pair of shoes after walking all over the factory town. She found herself apologizing for doing what she had thought was right. His head bobbed with a palsy she assumed was a recent development. Before she had a chance to say another word, he disappeared completely, so all that was left was a pile of his crumpled clothes lying on the floor beside the unmade bed on which he had been sitting.
© Michael D. Brown 2010
Originally published in 6S Vol.3 – Page 161