He drew in his breath. The cigarette glowed brighter. His eyes were impenetrably dark, except when they reflected the fiery ash at the end of his cigarette. He radiated unmistakable malevolence.
It is unquestionably him, yet there can be no rational explanation for his unaltered presence after seventy years – only for the unbridled hatred in his eyes and the ghastly smile that played across his lips.
Perhaps I am losing my mind. I pray that I am. May God have mercy on our souls.