Bother Brandon It Did Not

Memory 012

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Dirty and scabbed skin made love with the dust and filth from the people of Cinnabar. Every now and then, a random honk broke the silence of the late night. Bother Brandon it did not. His lonely years in the city had taught him how to tune out the noise in the pursuit of sleep.

On the ground next to him I sat and sang one of my special laments, a lullaby for those forced by fate to fend for themselves before they were ripe to do so. Brandon didn't even know his name, sad, but his time was up.