This Troll sported the smile of an imbecile, and stood far too close for her liking. His head was too large and his spiky hair unkempt and greasy. Charley could smell it from where he stood. She was not familiar with his kind, and because he was not dressed in traditional fay costume, she took him to be nothing more than an unfortunate vagrant.
She rummaged through her handbag as though to find some change to give him - it also gave her the excuse to look away. She hid her expression with her the curls falling down - for some reason this odd fellow really bothered her. Charley admonished herself for these unkind thoughts.
He had interrupted her contemplations. She had come to this park to find some time for herself, and to be able to finally be alone with her memories.
“Typical” she thought, “just typical that someone would turn up and interrupt my peaceful moment like this”.
Upon looking up she saw he was holding a large dirty sack. She could smell something farm-like coming from him, or it, or both. She tried to smile, holding out a five pound note.
“Are you from around here?” she asked in the friendliest voice she could muster.
He did not say anything but pointed to a gardener’s shed not far. She relaxed. Oh perhaps that's all he was, some untidy groundsman out cleaning up.
“That’s a rather big sack” she said cordially - edging up the bench to get a few inches away. She then moved to get up.
“Big enough” he grunted.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
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