PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie
Home, Sweet Home
“Home, sweet home,” Carl thought, as he curled up in the corner.
Home it was, at least for tonight. It would be a miracle if he could stay through the winter.
Carl didn’t think he was tressrassing, whatever that was. Even if he was, who was he hurting? Nobody was going to come home to find him sleeping in their corner.
His luck only lasted two weeks this time.
“Can’t you read? It says, ‘No Trespassing.'”
“I can read, and it doesn’t say…”
“Just get, ya degenerate.”
On the streets, winter was harsh. His luck didn’t last another two weeks.