Lost and UsedNo one seemed to notice him sitting in the corner, eating cold leftover french fries like there was no tomorrow. It was like he hadn't eaten in days, though he never complained about being hungry. Never said a word about taking a break for lunch, never did take that break.The manager walked into the bay, turning towards his crouched form."Hey, we need you up on the counter, okay?" he asked.As the teen got up, he placed the bag of french fries on the cabinet, looking at them longingly. When the manager closed the bay door, he quickly grabbed another handful, stuffing them in his mouth before he grabbed the handle of the bay door.Some w
Tools of the TradeWhat lies beyond the face of all hopes and dreams? In the realm of memories, what is it that remains? I often used to ask myself that many times a day. In pursuit of my dreams, I often found myself staring down a road in which ghosts of the past haunted me endlessly, pursuing my every option to destruction.I guess you could say that I was missing what I needed to push my way past the days of long ago and move onto the future. And in some way, I do believe I found them. Just as a stone sculpter uses a chisel and hammer to fine tune his sculptures, and an artist uses paints and a brush to create beautiful masterpieces...I too, needed my tools