The Interview

She'd seen his mug shot on the TV. Guilty of war crimes. She'd seen the pits where he'd ordered "human detritus," to be dumped, layer upon layer, making the bile burn her throat.

When she'd been told he'd grant an interview, she was excited but fearful at confronting such a man, if indeed that was what he was.

But she was not prepared for the shock that would shake her most when meeting him face-to-face.

The door to the interview room opened and she gasped.

For, in his monstrous flesh, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

***

100 words

I am fascinated by what your eye sees compared to what lurks beneath. How can you know someone's essence of self from the way they look? Are there signals that we just need to tune in to?

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