(no subject)

Sep 05, 2005 22:47

"he found himself out walking again, dragging his feet like he'd done since he was a kid. every three steps, his lace would break out, working it's way through the hole in the sole of his shoe, and every four steps, he went bend down, and tuck the soaking wet offender back into it's little cave. old newspapers were floating around in the gutters.

october 6th went past at a rush. following closely were september 13th and 14th, tussling together, as though the latter had finally got sick of his bigger brother, and was aching to get ahead for once. he watched as all the words melted from the pages and as one by one, they went down the storm drain.

walking over, stopping only to fix his shoe, he stared through the yellowing glass of munroe's store, and into the yellowing eyes of his former employer. he raised his hand. a gesture of thanks? a wave of pity? or a general acknowledgement? he didn't know, and frankly, he couldn't care less. munroe would be dead within the quarter, and the whole town would watch the old bastard be paraded through the streets, past his house, his store and through the wasteland by the church, until he finally found some fucking peace.

he envied the shit out of munroe."
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