I looked up and saw his square jaw, clean-shaven, illuminated by the desk lamp.
His stubby fingers reached for the end of an old cigar and picked it up. Taking the lighter from his desk, he opened it and ignited it.
Even from where I was hiding, I could feel the blast of heat from the flame.
He pulled on the cigar and exhaled. His blonde hair, really a dirty blonde, was slicked down with brilliantine. I could vaguely smell the fruity fragrance underneath the smoke of an old cigar, probably from Havana where the old man was running the island like a crazed maniac, grabbing everything he could as though the end of the world was coming.
His stubby fingers reached for the end of an old cigar and picked it up. Taking the lighter from his desk, he opened it and ignited it.
Even from where I was hiding, I could feel the blast of heat from the flame.
He pulled on the cigar and exhaled. His blonde hair, really a dirty blonde, was slicked down with brilliantine. I could vaguely smell the fruity fragrance underneath the smoke of an old cigar, probably from Havana where the old man was running the island like a crazed maniac, grabbing everything he could as though the end of the world was coming.