It was at the Aquarium that I first became acquainted with Franklin Turne. He was beside the shark tank, peering inside with an apathetic blankness in his eyes. He wore a black buttoned suit, and I'm quite sure my eyes would have passed right over him if it were not for the briefcase clenched within his right hand.
Next:
You see, Franklin was as average as it was possible to be without arousing suspicion. He wore a normal hat to cover his standard haircut. He wore a regular shirt that you couldn't help but feel you owned too. His shoes shined but did not sparkle, and his pants were exceptionally plain.
Had he been facing me, instead of the sharks, I might have noticed his left eye, which was no eye at all, but a glassy opaque marble to fill the vacuum. As it was, the only peculiarity I noticed belonging to Franklin Turne was his expensive briefcase, and his strained fist around the handle.
Had I given his countenance more consideration, I may have recognized his not-so-commonplace expression; the way he looked at those sharks was filled with an avid concentration, as though he hoped to find an answer to a question which plagued him. It would not be another four months until I learned what he was asking, and a whole year until I had the answer.
You're a natural.
ReplyDelete