The man finished his chores and thought of his lame horse and wouldn’t ever put the horse down. The horse had been the best and one of the fastest companions and to end its life because it had a bunk leg wasn’t enough to refute or deny the good times.
One random thought had entered the man’s mind. About spiders for some reason. He decided he would only clean webs once a year instead of once a month. The ecosystem of the barn was well-sustained. Locked up and safe. Tomorrow, he would ride.
That night on his cot though was tough. Staring up at the ceiling. Closing the window trying to hide from the inevitable cold. A heated lamp. Some writings on his desk. He was running away to the village to act as hero when at home, he recalled how he was so plain.
He sat down on his desk and drew a panda bear. Knowing and pouring his pen into the black patches around the eyes.
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