A bleak Christmas Eve. All alone in a pub, sits Arthur silent and contemplative. The winter wind spills through cracks in the wall, whistling through, bringing in with it memories, with that despairs, harsh truths, and familiar faces.
A bleak Christmas Eve. All alone in a pub, sits Arthur silent and contemplative. The winter wind spills through cracks in the wall, whistling through, bringing in with it memories, with that despairs, harsh truths, and familiar faces.
Robert Jones
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