Narva: Hour 1.
A man passes me glaring at the blob of food in his hand. He flicks a glance backward and then glares at it some more. He's snarling at the blob of food, furious. A smear of whatever fills the blob lingers on the side of his mouth and I stare at it as he fumes past me.
Another man in front of me, looks destitute. He's looking at me and now he's snarling something at me. He drawls his ugliness in Russian. He's drunk, wobbling and flicking his arm at me in slow-motion mimicry of threat. This is old, I've seen it so much. But this arsehole annoys me. Get yourself gone you ridiculous fool, I think. He goes on cursing me as I walk around him and I hold his gaze more than I should. I look back at him as I walk on and I glare at him and hate him. I glare at him with my mouth in a snarl and looking through my eyebrows. I hate him.
Another man in front of me, looks destitute. He's looking at me and now he's snarling something at me. He drawls his ugliness in Russian. He's drunk, wobbling and flicking his arm at me in slow-motion mimicry of threat. This is old, I've seen it so much. But this arsehole annoys me. Get yourself gone you ridiculous fool, I think. He goes on cursing me as I walk around him and I hold his gaze more than I should. I look back at him as I walk on and I glare at him and hate him. I glare at him with my mouth in a snarl and looking through my eyebrows. I hate him.
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