Empty shell.Slow and silent steps through the wooden house, as if making sure not to disrupt the peaceful noise of morning. Theres no one there but him and his dog he found one day below the house, by the creek. The dog is also silent, resembling his master who rarely spoke. The man followed his morning habit: a cup of strong coffee in one hand limping with a stick he used as a cane in the other. He gave up on the outside world, a long time ago. He had a chair on the porch of his house looking down on the creek and valley. He would sit there until it was time for lunch, and his dog would lie beside him. Both in their own thoughts. Every now an
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great shot...