When I first came across him, his face or better yet– the lack of it, was perhaps the first thing that stood out to me.
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I was walking outside a bar one dreary night. The air was chilled and the roads were laced with clumps of snow.
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A light and erratic drizzle fell upon me.
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As I neared the car park I saw him.
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His face was obfuscated; behind him was a light enshrouding the front of the mans figure.
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Piercing yellow beams assaulted my eyes– even this didn't do much to mask the figure before me.
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He stood tall, perhaps towering over me by a great margin, but I wouldn't have been able to tell at the time from the distance between us.
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When I passed him I felt as if a string had been tied to my head as I felt compelled to turn my neck towards him as we past.
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