Wilson stood on the corner, his fingers fumbling in his pockets at bits of lint and a penny he’d found earlier. He stared at the signposts until they came into focus but still the words seemed to be tripping over themselves. The faces of the people milling around looked blank and indistinguishable.
The busy intersection was a cacophony that clouded his thoughts further.
Every day was exactly the same.
“Uncle W, you made it!”
Wilson turned around as a kind face placed a hand on his shoulder.
He smiled, as he vaguely remembered that was the polite thing to do.
Hey, Listen!
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Written as part of Friday Fictioneers based on a photo prompt submitted by Lori Wilson this week.
Read more stories based on this photo, here!

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