Blink's Inheritance
A gangly teenager walked towards the river with a tired, heavy gait. He looked very dejected, his shoulders drooping like a mountain weighed on him. On a piece of rock as flat and even as a platform sat an old man with long gray hair and beard. He had a knowing glint in his eyes as he observed the youth moving his way. “Had a rough night?” the old man asked in a quietly soothing but surprisingly audible voice. The youth looked stunned momentarily. He couldn’t seem to recall seeing the old man sitting on the rock platform earlier. But as he thought it over, he realized that he must have been walking with his head hanging down for a good while. “Good evening, sir,” the youth greeted the old man. “I didn’t notice you earlier.” “You’ve been looking at your feet forever,” the old man said.
- Writer
