There he is. Straight faced and stout. His face provides you no clue. There is no way you can see what lay behind him.
Today, he is evil.
You stare at his picture and you hate him.
You look at the pair of set deep blue eyes and you see a stone black shadow. His mouth, thin and lined; gives no semblance of grief. There is no white beneath the blackened lips.
The face stamped on paper seemed old and lined. The face radiated some power, some angst, but you saw nothing.
You made your own assumptions. You were busy making them.
You love them.
You hate him.
There is no reason. You just do. You know nothing of him. Just that one picture. And just that one day off of his life.
There is no reason.
He is just a picture in the newspaper.
He is just another murderer.
And you, you make your assumptions. You hate him.