Date: 2005-09-12 06:32 pm (UTC)
Eavesdown wasn't much of a place to live. For those with a sense of smell, it wasn't any kind of place to live.

He'd had a proper name once, but all they called him now was the dog seller. His sense of smell had gone long ago, probably the only thing that made his job bearable; a job stuffing minced canine offal into tubes of a thin protein plastic the Alliance shipped in. They'd bumped the price up twice already since U-day, eating into already slim margins.

It was a business, and it was his own. More importantly, it made sure he could pay the rent - however dreamily he watched the ships coming in and out of the docks, hoping to be away from all the scum and filth of a town that exists for convenience and anonymity.

He turns his eyes skyward to watch a ship coming in, easily the nicest in the town that day. Longing filled his heart again, though he knew that he'd never be free of this backwater town; that he'd never stop selling his 'good' dogs.
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