Things that Might Happen on a Grey Sunday

Stork only bought it because he felt like he had to buy something before leaving. He gave the old man behind the counter a ten and nodded politely while the clerk made his change and made small talk.

The bells hung above rang as he opened the door and left, the smells of mildewed pages following him down the street to the bus stop. He watched the taillights disappear in the direction he’d hoped to travel. The wind blew sideways, lifting dust and sand into his eyes. Stork retreated into the shelter, pulled the well-worn book from his bag and read.


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