The balding old man still had few white streaks of
hair. He stuck his hand out, trembling
for a shake. His cherry red cheeks and
long, white beard gave him a Santa-like appearance. The sweater and faded yellow collared shirt
looked like they were new when he was a young adult. Wrinkles were carved into his face after
years of handing out fake smiles and taking occasional smokes. Each individual wrinkle was like a canyon, ready
to be flooded with tears that ran down the man’s face. His cold gray eyes focused on nothing but the
ground as he walked with regret and unhappiness. Sour, yellow teeth, the front two chipped, filled his mouth and his breath reeked of a bitter taste. Years of gravity pushed down on his spine as
he hunched over, walking slowly with a cane.
I was nervous to shake his hand because of his alarming appearance. Just a young boy, I tried to fake a smile but
the man’s chilling structure scared me away.
I love how you describe his wrinkles: "carved" from "years of fake smiling and taking occasional smokes" and as "canyon[s], ready to be flooded with tears." You really portrayed that he's weighted down by not only gravity but by life and time.
ReplyDeleteI really liked the description of the old man you used in this as well as your excellent use of similes.
ReplyDelete