Walter watches as she walks away, relieved that he has been spared the inevitable reaction people have when they first see his face. She may mean well, but she would be just like all the others. Dark memories of his childhood sprout up in his mind like a Whack-A-Mole game - school kids, his mother, and relatives - a veritable cabal of cruelty.
He gazes at the camera image of her walking slowly away and marvels at the sight of her shapely legs rising up from the high top tan leather boots and disappearing again under a short brown skirt which seems to float as if it is following different laws of gravity than the rest of the world. Watching the movement of her hips brings on a deep and all too familiar dark and melancholy mood.