That Man


That was eighty percent of what’s inside his head, while the rest were anger and regret. His face shows nothing—in fact, he looked calm—but he did wish he could beat that man’s ass badly as powerful as Superman, or at least make that man forgot everything.

But the fact is, he was merely a boy. He could do nothing against that man. He could only watch that man’s back, and followed him. As he did so, he watched him carefully, along with his friends, who also wore same outfit and accessories. The more he looked at them, the more he got insanely mad.

They sat in the post they build at the rear of the road. That man took a book from his pocket. The book is small and handy. He couldn’t clearly see what that book is, as he couldn’t see the front cover.

But he spotted the inside of the book. It was a table. There were so many fonts and numbers in the table. First he didn’t get it. But after he read cautiously, he began to recognize it. What stunned him was a cell, defining his mistake, and another cell, defining a big number.

Since it was the first time he had this accidental problem, he directly call his friend, demanding advice.

He quickly took his wallet, and took an amount of money, and gave it to that man, at the same time hiding another amount of money.

Debate after debate, that man, finally, and unwillingly, gave what that man took from him: a card and a paper, his own permission to go anywhere he wishes. That man then went away with his friends, leaving him with annoying laughter.

Since then, he has taken his hat off  for his country.