Like a Circus Side-Show [Tattle]
Dec 19, 2011 2:10:34 GMT -5
Post by meg. on Dec 19, 2011 2:10:34 GMT -5
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THEY'RE SHARING A DRINK THEY CALL LONELINESS"Dialogue!"
Rain is wet.
This was the startling discovery that Abe made, perched on a doorstep in front of his families' meat stall, early on a Saturday morning. It was only every fifth weekend that Abe was asked to man the marketplace stall, as it rotated through his siblings. However, it was that fifth weekend that, of course, Ripred himself decided to personally see that Abe got soaked.
Whoever labeled them raindrops,[/color] thought Abe, must really have not been looking propperly.[/color]
These weren't drops. Rain apples would have been more appropriate, looking at the size of them. They smacked the cracked concrete like it was a dance floor, and scurried away with the slope of the floor. Thunder grumbled overhead, threatening more rain. Although that may not have been possible, not more than the amount that was already coming down.
Abe took a bread crust out of his little leather pouch, and chewed it slowly. It was one of the only upsides to having to wake at four in the morning to peddle the families week-worth of ferret meat- whoever was given the arduous task that weekend was also given the leftover bread rations, of which there was never too much. Five hungry teenage boys will eat anything put in front of them, and then some, meaning that there was never enough to go around.
The meat was laid out on the small table in front of Abe, getting wet and not really caring about it, not to the same extent that Abe did. It was sliced into many different cuts- cubes, steaks, bacon rashers. It was amazing, what you could get off a ferret. The Capitol, in particular, found ferret meats intriguing. The district didn't feel the same way. It was normal on a Saturday like this for them to sell nothing at all. But the money that was made when some did sell never was wasted, and so the saturday deal remained a neccesity in the family.
Abe shivered, more to shake off the excess moisture than anything else. It wasn't cold- on the contrary, it was hot and sticky. With each breath he took, the luke-warm air sat in the bottom of his lungs like vast deserts of sticky pudding, something that he had never had the pleasure to taste, but had had the experience described vividly to him many times by his school friends. The air scraped the very front of his tongue, and slid like slime in and out of his lungs.
Spitting onto his finger and using it to wipe a spot of mud off his battered shoes, he considered the idea that it might rain so much that the stall would float away. It was just a silly daydream, of course, but he reckoned that he would do about as much business today if that happened than if it didn't. No sane person would be out in this.
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BUT IT'S BETTER THAN, DRINKING ALONE
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