Microstory

He was different from any man that had ever been here. His black suit was clean and his shirt, ironed. Since the moment he opened the door, he acted like a real gentleman: he helped and old man with a cane to stand up. And when he asked for a beer he said please and thank you. Because of that, I found inopportune to mention his horrible stench. The smell of cemetery had impregnated in his clothes. Now he was at my bar, drinking a beer without brand, the connection was obvious.