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Weekly Contest #27
At the rear of the Carolinian train, a small commotion was brewing. A man lay slouched against the train’s wall, ragged breaths sputtering out irregularly. He appeared to be trying to say something.“Breast pocket.” he managed.Could anyone even hear this man? By now, my interest was piqued. This was a drastic deviation from my normal rides on the Carolinian. All of my other trips had been exceedingly unremarkable. This, however, was something different. I could tell. I looked on with interest.“Breast pocket,” the man repeated under his b...
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