Three Weeks Later

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No one knew the stranger, or that there even was one to begin with. Sometimes he was towheaded, other times as red as the setting sun, and yet other times his hair shone as black as a raven's feathers. However he came, he left before there was a moment to commit him to memory. A mumbled apology then an offering pressed into the hands of those who wished, was the bulk of the interaction. On rare occasions it was money, but more often it was food. Most didn't know how they came to acquire such a gift, all they saw was a shadow turning down a nearby alley before looking down at the prize they held.

No one saw the boy after he had scuttled away. They couldn't have known how tired he was getting, how weak, how worried. They wouldn't have seen him pull off that indigo cloak and laugh at the sky. Exuberant that he could find a single moment of happiness in a sea of misery.

And no one could have known how it was all slowly killing him.

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