On the bus ride home, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the old man sitting a couple of seats away. He was so engulfed in the what he was doing, that he seemed not to notice the nine or so pair of eyes shooting bullets holes through his head.
For the thirty-five minutes ride to my stop, i watched him pull out the graying hair around his chin and neck area, and with each pluck, he popped the strand in his mouth and savored the taste with pure delight.
Though I found the sight quite disturbing, my eyes were but glued to the ritual. As my gaze traveled to his receding hairline, I wondered if the recession was natural or he had tucked a napkin in his collar and had had himself a feast.
He must be suffering from Trichotillomania (hair-pulling disorder)_goggled the word, can’t even pronounce it lol
What strange addictions do you know about?