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SMASH!" I heard the sound of a glass bottle make contact with the floor. Shards of glass sprayed the ground like a light snowfall. Everyone turned to look except one individual. He looked up, and caught my gaze. Here, I looked into the eyes of a man who looked as old as the Egyptian Pyramids. The light blue of his eyes was startling, almost as white as ice. His old, beaten, weathered hands that sooner resembled leather than human skin held a cigarette in his arthritis curled fingers. The wrinkles stretching across his forehead and between his eyes were like deep crevasses, showing weathering and age. The cigarette glowed like a burning candle. He clearly battled insomnia; below his eyes were dark shadows that resembled bruises. He stared at me intently, as though trying to figure me out. Bulging tendons ran up his arm like snakes when he brought the cigarette to his lips. When he exhaled, the smoke was a white halo encircling his head. His icy eyes looked toward the bartender, breaking his hypnotic gaze.
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