When looked back to the second character, a man of medium build dressed in a modest suit. He lifted a small glass of red wine, which disappeared behind a shadow fallen across his face. Adam cast his eyes away, unsure if the man was looking at him. Instead, he observed two women who had entered the room. Adam imagined himself dancing across the floor, spinning the brunette in a twirl, still staying to the beat. She was laughing, enjoying herself, as he spun her faster, and smiled.
Adam shook his head, pulling back to reality. He couldn't dance. Adam was never a dancer. Why, he had never been much of anything. He was the man who barely survived childhood. When he was a teen, he was picked last for kickball. Kids threw paper planes and laughed at him. Girls frowned and looked at him with disgust. He spent Friday nights alone, as he had no friends. Instead, he spent hours playing Runescape and eating Lays Potato Chips.
[...] Adam mustered a grin. He'd be the next star on the Forty-Year-Old- Virgin. He was twenty-five, a man not incapacitated by looks, but by confidence. He never had the courage to stand up to those bullies on the playground, to talk to girls, to learn how to dance. He was a skinny man, with a light, chocolate complexion. It had withered under the lights of computer pixels as he developed characters online. Those characters were popular, rose to the top. [...]
[...] You set yourself There was a silence. Adam looked at him with confusion and anger. Obviously Hitch wasn't the man Adam thought he was. “Persuasion,” Hitch said, pacing the room, a delicate art. It requires cunning words, emphasis, relation, and style. Politicians use it, I use it, everyone uses it. But the hardest form of persuasion is when one persuades himself.” There was another pause as Adam listened. “I'm being investigated under charges of robbery! Are you saying I persuaded myself to rob that Hitch laughed, a sinister laugh. [...]
[...] She patiently danced with him for half an hour until she told Adam to lead. Holding her hips, he led her in a box dance move, slowly shifting one foot after the other to the left, back, right, forward. Left back, right, forward. The beat ended, and repeated. One, two, three four. Left, right, back forward. Ligita laughed, and tossed her hair. One, two, three, four. Left, right, back forward. Suddenly, she broke from him into a twirl. He lost count of the beat. [...]
[...] As for suspects, there were none, except for a man, presumably twenty-five, faking an epileptic seizure, potentially connected to the robbers Adam's eyes widened. That's me! He cursed and covered his face as his heart pounded, his stomach fluttered, his adrenaline pumped. Why am I being investigated? And why didn't they mention Hitch? The police were at his apartment! At that very moment, Adam heard a tingle of metal at his door. That's the police! Adam panicked, and ran to his window. He could run. But he hadn't done anything wrong. [...]
[...] Never get too attached to people. Because people like Ligita you just can't trust. made me trust You made yourself trust me. I had nothing to do with it. He didn't know how it had happened how he'd been so willing, so trustful, of Hitc There are moments, in everyone's lives, where one reaches a fork. They can take either the right or the wrong path. If one takes the latter, He was Albert Brenaman from Hitch. His name was Adam Loser. [...]
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