I ascended the dark stairway at my childhood home to retrieve a toy I knew was in the upstairs closet for one of my children. As the creak of the steps sounded beneath my weight, memories from my childhood came rushing back. I reached the summit of the staircase and surveyed the room. To my shock in the far corner there was a person sitting there I was not expecting to see.
With a blank stare he looked at me, right through me, and somehow not at me all at the same time. He was a rougher looking character than I remembered. His hair matted and filthy, his arms bore the scars of a hard life. I took a step closer and noticed he looked worse up close. His nose had a nick out of the bottom side. There were patches where it looked as if his insides would spill out at any moment. If he had not been placed carefully, one of his eyes would droop and …
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