Eyes

The faces moving through the hall stare at the
sculptures of countenances hung
frozen on the wall. One examines
their expressions—he can see that what
is in their minds lies uncompromised in what would be
their eyes. The same cannot be said for the
others with him, chattering in complete blindness of
the eery empty masks that watch them, silent and
unforgiving. But he sees. He always
sees. He sees everything.

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