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Weekly Contest #249
A crisp night, clipped and polished. A lonely café, staring loneliness in the face; tumbleweed tumbling about, not a breath to be seen. The wind, the great romantic, whistled a lullaby to my friend and I. “Ah,” exhales richly Lionel Lav, displaying his vast leaning jaw to the world, “we have talked much, Jar.” “Indeed we have,” I affirm, “of things that are great - the men, the women, the children. And all in between that crumbles.”“Aye, and let it not be forgotten how my country was crucial to the war’s outcome.” With a shake of h...
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