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firieth_sidhe in writetothe_sky

He lived in the part of town where the only sign it was autumn was the sidewalk became so covered with leaves it should have been considered a public safety concern—except who cared about the safety of people here? Not the police. Not the politicians. And certainly not the stained-glass crowd. It never bothered him, though. He liked the cement slippery from rotting foliage. It made it more dangerous; less boring.

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April 2010

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