Not my, but my friend’s words. further from his face.

Released from the order, pressed "free", struck the parking lot near the church and stunned the car.

I sit and make orders.

A wart is separated from the doorstep, approaches me and knocks in the glass.

I listen to.

You cannot stand here.

and yes? I look around looking for a circle sign, I can’t find it. And why?

Parking for customers.

He cried, he said, to tears. But he left.