Some Words from A Sponsor of A Type Different

The thought of the matter is, that the Man in the Suit stayed in the place as long as the time ran out. The time placed itself as the pendulum of existence in these certain moments, and as the minute hand came closer to the Time of Reckoning, the logic shattered into pieces. Confidence drifted out of the end of a cigarette as the Man in the Suit grazed his face with the tips of his fingers, respirating as if he just finished walking a brisk pace from one point to another, with a long distance in between. His eyes searched around the room, keep attention on the clock and the front door a the same time. One could only imagine to determine what intentions he had running from one side of his face to the other, as his mouth twitched in a pensive notion. The steam off of the top of the coffee dissipated into, well no steam. He just sat and waited. The the Time of the Reckoning came, nobody knew it. But he left just minutes before, leaving a trail of blood in his path.