The mouse was dead. The deserted driveway was its deathbed. How did it end up there, no one knew. Somewhere in the distance an owl scolded its offspring for wasting a kill. The owlet hung its head in shame. He had hoped that the mouse would rush back to its family when he let him slip away from his talons.
Looks like the fog just spared my window to the street. The street lights looked liking smokers in an alley. The cobble stones were wet from the drizzle. The street dogs were busy barking at something. A breeze just unsettled the garbage can's lid. My world hasn't changed much. Everyday I look for some sign of change. Nothing seems to change. I have grown bald. My eyesight has dimmed. My kids have grown. The window pane has gathered dust and dirt. The spiders have evolved. Some old buildings have given way to new ones. The neon signs have gone. Still nothing seem to have changed. Change they say has to come from within. But then, what can come out of an empty narrow dead end?
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