I stared at him and he stared back. Dirty, matted hair. Torn, blood stained clothes. And his face, God, his face. Covered in sweat and dirt and blood. And his smile. He just stared at me with his fucking cartoon smile, grinning ear to ear.
He looked at me and I looked at him and we looked at each other until I punched him in the face. But instead of flesh, my fist met glass.