An unremarkable looking private house.
The blind old man sat in the shadow, his withered body quietly swallowing the light rays and deepening the shadows. His vacant eyes carried a strange glimmer, like a will-o'-the-wisp in the dark, late night, swaying silently and gently.
He stroked his staff with his pale, wrinkled palms, producing a hair-raising rustling sound, like that made by a snake slithering through crisp leaves.
The tall lady sat far away with a smile on her face. Those unfamiliar with her watery eyes would think that her face was filled with sensuality and passion. But it could be seen from her slightly tensed body, in a position that made it easy to stand up, that she was afraid of the old man.
The old man had this might.
