This tender bruised sun, heavy with the bulging anger of rain, settled into the horizon like a sore, as the boy wandered down the evening road. He had lost the slippers somewhere down the road, after the first drizzle, after the first crowd of boys had rushed him, after he had ran and fell into the manhole, after he had washed his bleeding knee, after the kind lady had given him a lift, after she had tried to kill him in her bathroom, after he had climbed through the window and broke his wrist on a flowerpot.
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