The Eternal Scam
(Variant V-12: Dirty Realism) Samuel sat on a green plastic bench in a park that smelled of wet dog and exhaust fumes. He was wearing a coat that had seen three different decades and a pair of shoes with holes in the soles that let the cold New York slush seep in. Beside him was a paper bag containing a half-eaten ham sandwich and a bottle of lukewarm water. Two weeks ago, Samuel had been a...
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