In the depths of our imagination.

I watched in wonderment as the thin, hazel headed figure sipped hesitantly at the steaming beverage in front of him. Although I couldn't see his face, I could never see his face. It was as if he purposely hid his features in the shadows of the strangely lit caffe. My attention snapped toward his creamy pale hand as it emerged from the darkness. And like every other morning, it placed the presumably empty mug back on its rightful table mat. And like every other morning before that, he stayed seated, seated so long I never got a chance to watch him exit due to my 3am shift of work.
"In the depths of our imagination may lie great destruction or great creation."