composed as a wasp

Greg Fallis

A man moves among the crowds, quiet and composed as a wasp. He knows where he is, though not quite how he came to be there. He regards the throng of people with both suspicion and indifference; indifference because they do not exist for him as individuals, but suspicion because he knows an individual exists among them. He is unable to recall if he’s looking for that person or if that person is looking for him, but he knows somebody is there, somewhere in the mass of humanity, and while he dreads their meeting, he is also anxious for it.

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