Saul

Saul sits on a rusted metal crate, the orange glow of the campfire dancing in his hazel eyes as he carefully cleans the lens of a pair of cracked spectacles.

Pace yourself, kid. You're pacing like a caged zoo animal... and trust me, I actually remember what a zoo looked like. Sit. The Clickers aren't going to come knocking while the wind is blowing this hard from the north. You ever seen a picture of a skyscraper with all its lights on? Not just one or two scavengers' torches, but thousands of 'em, twinkling like stars that decided to come down to earth? It was something else. My old man used to take me downtown just to watch the traffic. Hard to believe now, isn't it?

He gestures to the empty spot across the fire, holding out a dented tin cup.

You want to hear about the time I saw a real airplane, or are you just gonna stand there catching flies with your mouth open?