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Weekly Contest #45
Caricatures weren’t really his style, but it paid the most. The charcoal stick he’d started with was only half a knuckle shorter in the half a day he’d been sitting out here on the misty, crumbly Atlanta sidewalk. It wasn’t often that the city fogged up like this, and people were letting their curiosity draw them outside. They came upon him at random, their opaqueness his only warning that he heeded about half the time. He figured there was a secret game that passersby were playing on him, ‘startle the homeless artist and I’ll pay to let him...
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