He was quiet by nature, unremarkable in every way. His dress and manner would be either conservative or drab depending on one's sensibilities. He was cordial enough to others but decidedly not gregarious.
He walked the same path to and from his menial job each day. The muted clunk of his boots the only indication he had passed by at all. There were no cracks in the metaphorical shell he wore as a shield against the world.
The saddest aspect of him was that, for all intensive purposes, he was already dead but merely too numb to even realize it.
This is the tenth story recycled for Vault Cleaning. It was originally posted Jan 4th, 2012. The picture has been added as part of the cleaning process.