She turned away and looked at the army of tired men who sensed that the end was near.
It seemed more like the sigh of a tired man.
Behind it was a tired and frightened man no different from the rest of them.
A cold tired man was far more alert than a warm one.
A sick, tired old man, sitting with his book at the eastern window.
The dark face of the tired man looked down without emotion.
Just a little something to give a tired man a boost.
The other was an older man, thin and tired looking.
He was an old, tired man with his best days behind him.
Two tired men holding on to each other to stop themselves falling down.
