
Longing – Part 2
Tawny eyes scan the vicinity with rapt attention while a small hand clutches the scratchy material of his father’s clothes in a tight grip. Bright-eyed and only at the tender age of four, he has no worries, and he watches as people gather in front of them. He cannot differentiate amongst them for they blur and look like a blob of black and white that demands and shrieks too much for his young mind to comprehend. Hands emerge from there that grab at the vibrant and shiny treats, a direct contrast to the rickety cart they rest on for it looks dull and dreary,...
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