A strange, wondrous encounter

You find it very hard to let go of your selfish being. You don't dare take your life; instead, you buy a ticket to a faraway destination.

You look at yourself in the mirror, which lies just an inch away from the ticket-counter. You are in good shape. You notice your black, rumpled hair all covered in tiny, whitish flakes. Some might call it dandruff, but you despise that word. You stroke your beard gently with your left hand. You know shaving would have killed your masculinity, so you don't snip it. Instead, you keep it shaggy and messy, as it successfully hides your inflamed, rosy-coloured acne that cling all over your jawline.