Posted early one morning by a very morose looking Hyur man without a word. Placed off to the side, in a attempt to not cover up any one else's bulletins and maybe even stay around for a bit.Â
The note itself is hand written, in a messy but legible hand.
In loveing memory of Coralee Snow. Tooken from us by the violens and greed of streets. A mother, a daghter, and a freind to many. She will be missed.
Underneath the notice is a clay, cracked vase of yellow daisies.
The note itself is hand written, in a messy but legible hand.
In loveing memory of Coralee Snow. Tooken from us by the violens and greed of streets. A mother, a daghter, and a freind to many. She will be missed.
Underneath the notice is a clay, cracked vase of yellow daisies.
If you always do what you've always done, you'll only know what you've always known. And that's boring.
