The man on the other side of the glass seemed nice enough and Kathy practically skipped inside to kneel down next to the dog, excitedly holding out her hand for the puppy to sniff.
Eliot's first clue that something was weird was probably getting a good look at Kathy's clothing; a haphazard collection of dirty clothes, worn thin and frayed, layered over each other for wamrth. Her sleeves were all pushed up to her elbow, revealing his second clue--skin covered in Sharpie with words, names, and messages all jumbled about. Most were written in English, some in Hangul. A few started in one language then drifted to another and back without any rhyme or reason. The hand she lifted towards Val was red and chapped from the cold, nails short and dirty, and the words RADIO STATION written across the palm.
But the most obvious clue, the worst of them all, was the gaze she lifted towards him, empty of any recognition. "Is this your dog, mister?" she asked, guileless as a child. "He sure is friendly! Good puppy!"
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Eliot's first clue that something was weird was probably getting a good look at Kathy's clothing; a haphazard collection of dirty clothes, worn thin and frayed, layered over each other for wamrth. Her sleeves were all pushed up to her elbow, revealing his second clue--skin covered in Sharpie with words, names, and messages all jumbled about. Most were written in English, some in Hangul. A few started in one language then drifted to another and back without any rhyme or reason. The hand she lifted towards Val was red and chapped from the cold, nails short and dirty, and the words RADIO STATION written across the palm.
But the most obvious clue, the worst of them all, was the gaze she lifted towards him, empty of any recognition. "Is this your dog, mister?" she asked, guileless as a child. "He sure is friendly! Good puppy!"