Pure coincidence when he noticed tiny death’s heads woven into the silken swirls of his boss’s tie.
“I’m looking for them.” He muttered when they surfaced in his afternoon tea. Two medium size tea leaves above a bigger one, duel rows of five beneath.
That night in the pub, the boys threw darts. Their indents mocked him. He raised his pint in a mock salute.
“Think I can’t face you?” he screamed, dazzled by headlights, two medium sized above a bigger one, duel rows of five beneath.