Another Day.

He wakes up. He is not alone. He goes back to sleep. The roads are slush and ice. They are walking along the road together at the side of the road together one in front of the other looking for a house a village a crossroads. There are cars speeding past but they do not hit but they nearly hit. He gets out of sleep. He gets out of bed. He walks to the bathroom his morning erection bouncing…

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The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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