11,041 vagabonds plus:
An old sullen and cobwebbed road side stand selling disfigured tomatoes and puny beans now features neatly stacked bright orange pumpkins ready to be carved sporting mischievous black grins, or buried with crust in dull gray pie tins. And passing by slow on a sweatshirt day makes me feel eleven years old for a moment as one pumpkin amongst the others, already grinning, calls my name in a screaming hush.
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