You Are the Alpha and Omega

His hair was wizened and straw-like, nearly fossilized ,it was so dry. He had sad, way worn eyes and a distinctive beard. The kind of beard a lunatic might have. His fingers were gnarled and he had a voice that was a mixture of whiskey roughness and reassurance. All he did was drinking, writing and other activities in order to satisfy the animal in him. He would pour himself a glass of cheap wine and go straight ahead to his typewriter. He would start by typing her name in capital letters and then nothing seems to have any sense, just a bunch of letters crowded randomly on a dirty paper, keep writing until the wine bottle runs out of wine. His face becomes deadly scary, he would stand up light a cigarette, smoke it like it is the last one earth. Closed curtains, dusty floor, smoky ceiling and dead walls. A decomposed bed in the far corner of the room, the grey typewriter next to the door that has already forgotten how to get open. He would get drunk and start talking and pretending she is listening, he would make up whole deep dialogues where he took both his and her role. Then, he would hit the point of the dialogue when they have to be kissing, he would burst into tears, winter-cold tears and then get on with drinking and writing her name until there is no single paper in the typewriter's paper bank.