“Sir, could you check your details please?” The young woman at the counter asked him to look at the applicant monitor facing him.
He squinted at the screen. Putting his hand into his bag, which he had placed on his lap, he pulled out a spectacle case, clicked it open, spread out the temples of the glasses within, and put them on.
It was the woman’s turn to squint. “You have reading glasses…?” She politely inquired, remembering to smile.
He diverted his eyes from the screen, looked at her above his glasses, bobbed his head a couple of times, smiled back, and turned his attention again to confirming the details on the monitor.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her pick up his passport from the table none-too-discreetly (she was a young woman, after all), flip to the inside cover, and on reading his date of birth, widen her eyes and turn up her eyebrows. She couldn’t contain herself. “Sir, you don’t look so old…”
Looking at her again, his validation over, he smiled more than passport and visa snaps allow you to.