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Tan Daddy

I recently submitted the following piece to a short fiction contest.

Though I did not win or place, I was given special notice for two words that appear in the story. 

The Boise Weekly sure got my hopes up when I saw the title of my story in their headline.

Onto the next one. An opportunity at every corner.

For now, a story:



           "The man with shaded glasses lights a cigarette that dangles from his chapped lips. The morning sun beats down upon his bald head as he reaches for his breakfast.
            He grabs the can of Pabst, the condensation cooling his frail hands.  He drinks slowly.  The man judges the long days by empty beer cans, not by minutes or hours.
            Leathery, sun kissed skin provides a tough exterior, guarding the memories of a forgotten life.  Memories buried under what used to be very pale skin and a loud soul.
            Tan Daddy is his name.  For the day, the neighborhood is his."

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