
Portrait of a junior high school. Deep autumn. A carpet of red leaves rolled out on the walk. The sun sliding away into the trees. But the glitz of Hollywood is far away. This is a cheap sun. A nickel and dime sun. With a cheapness that goes past half-hearted rays and clocking out early. This is a sun that sang its loudest songs somewhere on a stage last July. Last August. An aging lounge singer. A faded star. No longer part of the sky. Eclipsed by movement of earth and time. A tawdry little shine soon to flame out west. Forgotten. A sun that doesn't give a shit that it's leaving two boys alone, with a junior high school.
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