His thick, snow-white hair was immaculate.Everything about him was immaculate: his charcoal-grey suit, his white silk shirt, the Pierre Cardin tie and the glistening black shoes. His face could have been chiselled out of teak: nut brown, a thin beaky nose, a slit for a mouth, big slate-grey eyes and flat pointed ears.The shock of finding the squat man dead in my trunk had stunned me. I felt as if I were experiencing a horrible nightmare, and in a few moments, I would wake up and find, to my utter relief, all this had never happened, and it was just another Sunday morning.This man, sitting facing me, was just an addition to this nightmare. I closed the door and leaned against it and stared at him.T found your door open,' he said. 'Excuse me for taking the liberty. The name is Edwin Klaus: K-l-a-u-s.'I felt a trickle of sweat run down my aching cheek. This was no nightmare: this was for real.'What do you want?'His slate-grey eyes, as expressionless as blobs of ice, regarded me.'I want to help you.' He waved to a chair.
What do You think about 1977 - My Laugh Comes Last?
