Conversations with Sao

“Come on in” he told me as he opened the door into his office…
A slender stretch of a hallway greeted me as i entered… a sad blank stretch of nothing but white canvass…
the man infront of me had narrow shoulders, straight but postured to command respect.. his disheveled hair reflects on the mirror at the end of the hall, a single scar i saw, embellished his hard face.. the mirror was of victorian design, it was large but not condescending, and a smiling picture of a woman was perched on the right bottom corner of the outline..
It was a modest yet elegant room decorated with nothing but antique furnitures…
and the fact that they were antiques were amplified by the subtle smell of varnish that was emanating from them..
a pretty spinet was sitting beside the wall on the other side of the was so inviting that i had to fight the strong urge to sit there and play…beside it was a table ender craddling a number of novel books.. Gerritsen and Tolkien was on top, a page was swaying to the movement of a medium-sized hunter fan that was revolving in the ceiling and an I-shaped leather sofa lay cozily underneath it..
i felt a familiar sensation when i have finished sizing the whole room, and a cold one crept upward my spine..
“what can i get you?” he said as i stood there frozen…
immediately the spell that bound me was broken…
“a-oh just water, please, thank you” i replied with no conviction..
“ahh, please have a seat. So you’re still detoxifying?” he asked as he reached into a small fridge beside his table..
I sat down on a small chintz chair facing him.. it was warm and comfy..
“yes, i just came home from a night out, i haven’t seen them for ages so it was kinda intense last night, three beers, four bottles of brandy, and an empty stomach, just like the old times”
a smile ruptured from his dark face. though he wasn’t the snob type, a smile was something you would not see everyday on Sao..
the blank expression that was on air everyday on his face, the piercing eyes that could almost freeze you cryogenically when he lays them on you, and the scar that crossed his upper and lower lips… from afar, he looks like an unkempt ragdoll..
There and then, i knew that this was gonna be a worthwhile talk…


About delamorte

Eherm... A boy with a soiled face who's spent 23 pathetic years trying to make a difference... An old man trying to talk his way out of his own cage... And the Seer who's trying to poise these two alter egos' rage... You won't find anything interesting enough in me to ask about my real life facts. Trust me, things will get more and more boring once you take that path. Disclaimer : These are just random rants and stories cooked-up out of boredom and prolonged stages of catatonia. Please feel free to troll/criticize my works, i am but a poor soul trying to find my way out of this miserable phase some of you call life, your critiques shall serve as my guiding light.
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