Old feelings.

His lips were soundless but he spoke with gestures. The man was thin, with hair neatly combed and parted. It was blonde, the colour of soft sunlight that only the afternoon brings. He had blue eyes, clear and direct that opened wide to reveal his black pupils. His gaze was intense, and one could almost feel his complexities. His head was titled forward in the way, one leans to hear a secret. Dressed in a light blue collared shirt,  it made his complexion seem pale. He stood with his hand curved around his mouth; as though he was frightened of the words that may slip, or perhaps he had heard something, that had taken the breath from him, and he could not yet comprehend, he simply needed a moment to think. The wrinkles in his brow exaggerated all the lines in his face. He stared into a vague space, somewhere that was unreachable to people. There were too many feelings to comprehend; each examined alone could be magnified and continue to fascinate.