Re: At the end of the street under the lights; Hugh M./cobbled
One of two things happened when those that lived on the streets: they either survived or they didn't. If he was a philosopher, the same would have been true of life, and in the end -- it was the end. You were not getting another two hundred guineas for passing go on the next midnight; you were worm food, if you were lucky. Tik tok, went time like a rich man's pocket watch. Tik tok. Tik tok.
Maybe it was closer to the sound of dancing heels on the sidewalk. The street rat -- urchin, ne'er-do-well, call him what you want -- was all growed up now as he watched the man with the bottle in his hand. He had a few pence in his pocket, enough for a meat pie, maybe one with a pint too, if he wasn't too particular about either and didn't ask too many questions about the contents.
His belly gave a gurgle, though he looked like he hadn't missed that many meals. Men his size were often chosen for other jobs, but he wasn't good at using his fists to chase money out of hands. He was better at smiling, though his teeth weren't pretty, and people had more mercy on him than they should. The urchin tried the smile now at twinkle toes under the light.