In a small room that was neat and tidy, a man sat hunched over a book set on a table. His shoulder jabbed out of the white robe he was wearing, giving the impression that he was very thin.
The curious thing about the room wasn't only the man but that the whole place, except for the table and chair the man was using, was covered in thick layers of dust.
From the bookshelves in one corner to the picture hanging on the walls—everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.
The man seemed to be reading the book in front of him, but his hands were limp on the table, his body frozen like that of the dead.
Then, suddenly, he jerked. A simple, sharp movement of the shoulder, then stillness again. It was as if he had returned to his dormant state, but his awareness filled the room.
He jerked again, and this time, he raised his head.
