People came and went from the cobblers storefront, none of them carrying shoes with them. People came and went to the florist but all the plants had died long long ago,
Chozen was tired of watching the bun stand at the end of the street, hoping for a rush for one hour a day and the rest spent counting bills from a government that no longer exists. His mother opened the shop and with a lack of a government led to an lack of institutions of higher learning. Chozen remembers the sun hitting his mother’s face as she taught him how to make the buns which now sustained his livelihood. The sun was warm on his skin that day and his mother’s smile added to the fire in his memory.
Chozen long ago forgot his mothers features, her smell, and her voice. But he remembers the sun that day, long long ago,