A Man's Perspective Mga Nobela at Kwento

Two perspectives are definitely better than one. An older man with greying hair and a deeply lined face stands off to one side, his arms folded and worry etched across his features. I’m not sure who he is because we haven’t been introduced, but when he notices Tobias recording, he pulls out his own phone and starts filming too. Within moments, most of the pack follow suit, and I let out a slow breath. Evidence isn’t going to be a problem now. Even so, I keep my camera fixed on the councilmen because I’m convinced their reactions are going to be just as important as the challenges themselves.

How could he possibly help me? At this point, I thought of going back. But then I just couldn't, what waited for me there was worse than anything this man could possibly be. But what could this encounter yield? This man was obviously a nassarcist who doesn’t see people as humans. He would out-rightly refuse this child without even thinking twice. But then, what other choice do I really have? I stared into his eyes. Even though I was drunk that night, I could recognize those eyes from anywhere in the world. The way they made me shiver and how they held me captive, and sends shivers down my spine-

Swinging my hips slowly to the rhythm of the music. Unlike other patrons, this strange man’s expression was very nonchalant. While other patrons seemed to be drowning in their own sexual desires, this man seemed completely unaffected and indifferent. “Who is he?”, I wondered. “I don't think I've seen him here before. I should look out for him next time. Why am I seeing him for the first time? I've probably not been paying so much attention that's why I'm seeing him for the first time”, my mind filled with many possibilities as I tried to unravel the mystery of the strange man.

I ask turning away from the smoothie for a moment to face the man, where in this moment, I was more than glad that I had a counter separating us. This man had an evil type of look in his eye, it was clear he didn’t want to be here speaking to me but for whatever reason, had no other choice. He wore a dark brown jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans, he didn’t have any hair but a scar which ran across his eye telling me he’d been in some kind of scuffle some time in his life. “Did a man walk through here?” He asks his voice rough but seeming to sound a little uninterested, while I tilt my head to the side a little in a confused manner.

He felt like a puppet. As the night went on, the faces blurred together. Every conversation felt like a minefield. A man with a grey beard cornered him near a piece Leo had finished only three days ago—a study of a hand reaching through bars of light. "The composition here is fascinating. Tell me, what was your headspace when you chose this angle? It feels so desperate." Leo looked at the man. He looked like a normal person. He probably went home to a family. He probably drove his own car and decided when he wanted to go to sleep.

Kate would want a few classic poses for the website, but judging by the man’s demeanor, I doubted he’d be keen on kneeling in the sand. Yeah, he definitely didn’t strike me as the type who kneels for anyone. What the hell? I shake the absurd thought away and lift the camera. The man’s back is held straight, and his hands are still in his pockets. Oh, he’s not happy. I look down at the screen, and his face appears in perfect clarity. I jolt. No fucking way.

I turned to a man who was half drunk, his eyes were droopy. I tilted my head, "Shouldn't you be figuring out how you're going to get home, sir?" His eyes widened in realization and immediately took out his phone. I turned back to the bartender and pointed at him, "You are a dirty man, you know that?" He raised his shoulders and brought his arms up, "Hey, I'm just stating my opinion here." "I'm a man and I know how other men think too." "And that gentleman has a thing for you." I waved my hand in denial,

Always something pressing at the edges. Here there was just the cold, the grass, my own breathing and hills that had been here long before any of my problems and would be here long after. I stopped at a low stone wall and looked out at the view and felt, for the first time in a long time, something close to small in a good way. Like the things I was carrying were a normal size and I had just been in too-small rooms. "Incredible, isn't it." I turned. A man. Roughly my age, maybe slightly older. Dark coat, easy smile, the kind of face that was used to being outside. He was looking at the same view, hands in his pockets, entirely unbothered by the cold.

What a man with a strong presence! Is this right? I can't believe my eyes.