As a child, he used to pretend to be the villain. He would wrap his head up in a black cloth, leaving only his eyes exposed, and run about the house with a makeshift gun, mimicking popular bad-guy lines from the cartoons on TV. His little sister used to be terrified. He enjoyed that.
It’s a wonder what time does to a man. She breathes age into his senses and clouds his thoughts. Maybe that’s why he could feel nothing but shame today. He wiped off all traces of himself and ran away into the world of darkness.