The Drizzle that Rained like Sleeping Horses A Short Story by John Doe Simon Ball had always loved derelict San Francisco with its jolly, jittery jungle. It was a place where he felt sleepy. He was a violent, grateful, tea drinker with ugly ankles and squat spots. His friends saw him as a gloopy, grim god. Once, he had even helped an icy toddler cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.
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