I see him every day. He comes to the park and sits on a bench. He eats there and reads. Behind him are trees. When he leaves, I find what he has thrown away. They are wrappers and newspapers. At night, I smell them. […]
Fiction, and other made-up stories
I see him every day. He comes to the park and sits on a bench. He eats there and reads. Behind him are trees. When he leaves, I find what he has thrown away. They are wrappers and newspapers. At night, I smell them. […]