He walked in, the weight of the world on his shoulders in the shape of a little child. A three day beard graced his twelve step face as he looked at his feet and whispered softly: "My boy needs a good meal."
He walked in, the weight of the world on his shoulders in the shape of a little child. A three day beard graced his twelve step face as he looked at his feet and whispered softly: "My boy needs a good meal."