So sneaky was the young boy that he could walk into a room and no one would see him. He was as see-through as air, and he knew he’d learn everything there was to know about her in his preferred state of being.
He obeyed the stop sign as he should. Two minutes later, two glock 9 millimeters were pointed at the sides of his head. The car or your life, one thug said. Lower one gun and I can get out, he said to him.
He had mild concern about carrying out the plan of action. Little thought had been given to the likely outcomes. Intuition was a strong indication of the probability of success, but only when balanced by logical reasoning.
He took into account the consequences of his actions only when it was befitting to do so. Those times were fewer these days, as he did what he had to in order to avoid slipping back down the slow decline of homelessness.
He carried the most distinguished cane at the race track. Women swooned at the sight of his dapper attire. To think, 100 years from now this place would be populated with little more than gambling addicts and washed up bookies.
The existence of the object was all too subjective. Why couldn’t anyone else see it? Was this a hallucination or was it actually there. If anyone else could see it, you wouldn’t know from their behavior.