Moses’ Story

I wanted the train to go faster. The old man’s snot streamed down. His eyes crossed like he was itching to assassinate the tip of his nose. He ran his fingers through his hair and little
white-dandruff-flakes settled on everyone’s suits. His skin was cracked from cold and dryness. He chuckled and coughed through
mucus as he read a magazine.
He cleared his throat and his eyes left his nose. He smiled and there was no front tooth on the left. His mouth hung open for a few seconds and he hissed for a while.
“Almost there.” He summoned all his strength to shut his mouth again.
His bodyguards’ heads were bald and shiny. I felt their eyes fixed on me behind their sunglasses. I smiled at them whenever a new cloud of dandruff emerged, but they never looked at me.
The train screeched and shook and stopped. A guard picked the decrepit man up and threw him over his shoulder, and we all got off the train.
The platform was covered in snow, so the guards and I pulled our pants up to spare them. The sun greeted me every so often from behind the mountains as we walked. We descended from the platform and walked into a little brown house.

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