"His eyes sparkle like doves beside springs of water; they are set like jewels washed in milk"

Just went downstairs and got the mail. The main entrance to our building is all glass walls and windows. On a good day you can see everything outside clearly and it's almost as if you're amongst it, even though you're not. Today's not a good day. I went downstairs, mask in hand - you can never be too careful - and the entire room glowed green. A dark, dirty sort of green, like really dark rain clouds. Eerie.

There was a man in the air lock. Just standing there. Looking at the sky. He was crying. I couldn't hear him, those rooms generally don't let much in or out and that includes sound. I tried to ignore him. I don't normally like to get involved in other peoples problems, expecially people I don't know. Which is a bit hypocritical considering anyone could read this and comment on my mountain of issues, but I never know what to say when people are upset. Most of the time all I can manage is to stand by quietly and give them a feeble pat on the back. I've never told someone I know how they feel because I don't. I only know how I feel, I'll only ever know how I feel, thought sometimes I wish I did know how other people felt. But I'm not like Berry. I don't get a feel for people when I've only just met them or if I pass them in the street. Maybe he is an empath. Maybe he just has good instincts.

I got the mail and was about to walk back upstairs, but something made me turn around. Orion loomed in the distance, a dark shadow amongst pea soup fog, and the guy was now staring straight at me. His eyes were wide like he'd had some sort of a fright and he beckoned for me to come closer. I just stared. He kept beckoning, getting more and more worked up and I guess, excited? I took a few steps forward and against my better judgement, continued taking steps forward until I was about a metre away from the glass. He stared at me for a moment longer. He was uncannily tall. It was almost scary. Tall and willowy, like a tree. He wore a suit about two sizes too small for him and a tattered bowler hat. It was all very comical. I think, maybe, thats why I went over to him. That and we were seperated by a large glass door with bolts that only a fool would try to compete with, though the thought didn't cross my mind at the time.
"Your not from around here, are you?" I don't know what made me say it. And looking back it was stupid, because the doors are so thick, as I mentioned, sound rarely gets in or out, unless there's a bomb going off outside or something.

He shook his head.
The thought that he SHOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HEAR ME, also, didn't cross my mind at the time. (funny how you miss these things).

He reached out one long limb and pressed his hand against the glass, taking a few steps closer as if preparing to share some sort of secret. Instead of speaking, however, he breathed on the glass. He started to write something with his finger and he had to keep breathing on the glass so there'd be enough room to write and so the message would stay there and his handwriting or finger writing I guess you'd call it was terrible but there was legible enough to make out:

"TRUST YOU."

I blinked. And I think I must have frowned or something because he laughed and smiled at me as if to say "you'll get it eventually.." And then:

(NOW: LET ME MAKE SOMETHING VERY, VERY CLEAR: I do not:- snort- inhale- inject- take- drink- insertOr anything else you can add to that list, ANY SORT OF drugs, alcohol or other nasty substances. So...I'm probably just going insane.)

His eyes sparkled, he winked and dissapeared. Just like that. Poof! Gone.

I think I need to lie down.