Exhausted, Metner looked up at the opulent canopy over his bed, the sturdy curtains and drapes around his bed kept sunlight out.
[A man who can't see the sunlight anymore.]
The Foreign Minister's dry face twisted into a bitter smile, he was fully aware that his smile must be frightening— a grimacing skull wrapped in wrinkled skin, enough to scare anyone, especially when the skull was displaying a grin of death.
His face was not the only thing, the body hidden under the green blankets was just as bad. Within few weeks, his body which was bedridden, was now indistinguishable from a human, it was more believable if someone said it was a pile of dried roots.
