I don’t trust the lights.
I like ‘em, sometimes. I wink back at ‘em sometimes.
But I don’t trust ‘em.
Little story in the paper…not even a story, really, just a mention, a listing, said an intruder entered my house and assaulted me.
Not my name.
Just “occupant.”
Might have been an intruder.
Might have been my brother Walter tweaked out of his caboose.
Whoever…
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