A Writing Quill

  The old man would sit by the sea all day, not eating or drinking much except for the loaf of bread with a bottle of water at noon. He would dress like a gentleman and stare at the sea for hours and hours. Few people would come to him and say a few words. The same people every time. He would ask them certain questions, and then they would leave. These people sometimes would laugh; sometimes cry; sometimes smile; and sometimes, left with no countenance. The shopkeepers from a distant would assume whatever they liked. There were a lot of conjectures among the daily visitors of the sea. Some would greet him with a suspicious smile, while a few would stare at him from the corner of their eyes while pretending with some of their workout moves. A teenager was a regular runner. Her mother accompanied her always, who was one among the few visitors mentioned above. She would smile wearily at the old man if their eyes would meet while she tried to sneak it, but unfortunately could not. The...