Short Story. What do you think?
The Millionare He walked. On the streets he once believed he owned, he walked, lost and desolate. All he saw were the things he had, all his possessions. He walked the empty streets, and wished for a chance to do it again. A man walked next to him, tall, an imposing figure compared to the other crumpled, defeated silhouette. “Do you wish to say something, Alan...
honesty of obsession, I’ll never know why Each time I fall, get back up again Born of ashes, but again I try falling forward, three steps back moving farther only to cry stepping, moving, pleading, off track