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Weekly Contest #225
Tink, tink, tink. The tin can Addy had just kicked skittered down the broken pavement in front of her. Broken, just like everything else in what was left of her hometown. As she walked toward the old fairgrounds, she passed houses in different stages of disrepair. They all had a common theme though; it looked as if whoever had lived there had left in a hurry. There were old drink cans tipped over on the front lawns, a garage door was left open with children's toys rusting in the elements, and a sweet Raggedy Ann doll slumped over in a pink ...
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