Staring forward he waited. Waited – the fear and trepidation that seeped through to play upon the lips and eyes so evident now.
The seconds melted into drips deforming as the passed by so slowly. Dali’s clocks. A nervous smile sprinted across his lips as he realised he understood the symbolism put in pictures by the great man.
A bead of sweat erupted from somewhere between his shoulders and ran an icy merry ski run of a track down his spine pulling the fabric of his clothing making it stick to him, like a keen blade with murderous intentions.
Fidgeting to find a comfortable poise he finally gave up. What’s the point? It’s inevitable.
And still the wait. Memories of the last few months pricked at his mood, the moments of intense pain that speared his life, his edgy pain filled days to the nightmare pitted troubled nights.
Then it came.
“You have 3hrs to complete both papers, the time is nine o’clock, you may start”
30 ноября 2016 г. 15:07:25
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