Dressed in White

Dressed in white, the man stepped off the main road and walked toward the compound. Though it was only mid morning, the sun had beaten the scene into wavy submission. Sweat beaded on the man's forehead before streaming down his face. His loose clothes offered little help circulating air across his skin. Some of the people walking in the opposite direction thought his clothes were too big. And the fabric, the way it jutted, didn't look quite right. His lips moved, just enough to be noticeable, like he was talking to himself. At the same time, there was a strange calmness in his countenance. When he was 20 feet from the gate, he was hit with a wall of warnings. He'd wanted to reach the gate, but, still, he could have an impact from here. Besides, the sands of time had run out. All sights were on him. He paused for a moment, then looked up at the sky.