the good life

Andreas set out for the shopping district dressed in a secondhand suit, hair slicked back as if he were planning to attend a lavish garden party. He hardly noticed the shafts of sunlight extending through the flowering lindens overhead, nor the gentle breeze that danced through the midday air. Such beauty was inconsequential.

Once inside the quaint boutiques, he would ask to try on the finest, most expensive wears. One foot stuck in scuffed patent leather, the other modeling a shiny Italian loafer.

Back at his one room apartment Andreas would smile, having had a taste of the good life.


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