Tyler -- Magazine Pages

About half a mile into Rade’s central (and only) park, a concrete structure led to the entrance to the subrails. It was two grimy walls growing from the dead ground, leading into a dark stairwell. Just inside these were a series of small coves, and here I settled into one – already marked by a torn sleeping bag, old magazine pages stuck to the wall with gum, and a general sense of use.

I shifted into my sleeping bag and leaned my head against the cold concrete. One of the more worn magazine pages, one of my favorites, caught my eye. A…well, it looked like a type of family unit…grouped around a fire. Some type of tree was in their house (which looked like a far cry from the gray homes of Rade), decorated with colorful lights.

Along the bottom was a…word, maybe? A half-moon sort of symbol, then a stick with a curve attached, another, smaller stick… Yes, it must’ve been a word, in some other, older written language.

I never figured out what it was, but I still liked it.

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