The street was empty, just like his wallet. He had used up his last penny to buy some ammo. Because when the war comes home he shouldn't be caught unaware. So he climbed back in to the claustrophobic cabin of his tank and shut the hatch tight. Now it's just me and them, he thought. That's when he saw the shadow of the mother ship looming large from behind the buildings
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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