It was a very chill morning out on Sundown street, as Grindor a stray lad had observed while he sauntered through the thick mist. He could be seen clothed in rags, with prominent sores and scars, with his skinny face likened to a skull mask worn but even in his wretched state, he put on the weirdest of countenance. The residents dared not to talk to him because he appeared weirdly unstable, like a rickety car that was miraculously jerked to life without its old parts taken out.
"I don't want to ever see you look at him!" a mother yelled at her children when she found them peeking through the window. Grindor had heard the chide of the woman scolding her kids as he watched her frantically display her animosity towards him by serving it hot to her children.
"What's with this people?" he wondered,
"What's wrong with all of them? Why are they so mean? Even to their own kids?" he pondered, deep in thoughts.
Perhaps it was their way of life but it was definitely the strangest one he had seen. The least a parent would do back where he came from, was tousle the child's hair with a flaccid warning, that could even have snakes become protective of humans and eventually have them surpass the companionship dogs provided mankind for years in just a day after receiving such a loving warning.
People here though probably in dejection he thought, always looked the part, in the way they dressed, talked and walked, they all acted the same way. It was so rare to see someone this beaten...