Posted by Jasmine Marie on Monday, January 18, 2010,
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Last month, Mr. Bunker had walked
the long, golden walk into town for a coke.The wind ruffled the gravel dirt that had lightly touched his shoes as
he walked along an old country road.
There was something to be said
about living in a small town.Mr. Bunker
would walk past a field of daisies, and see nothing but weeds.Slowly, the blazing hot sky would open the
daisies...