032923b

Good Old Days


I used to shlep on down, every time we visited that tired little planet, to a street by the spaceport, past the bars, where shabby creatures laid their wares out on filthy ragged blankets, haggling over plastic pennies for relics of long-forgotten civilizations, fallen into legend when our ancestors still squatted on the African savannah, picking fleas from each others' backs and using rocks to brain each other over food and mates, but the last time I made planetfall I went looking for that little market, and it was gone.

swept clean
street lined with plastic shops
selling plastic crap



A drabbun in which the prose portion consizts of a single sentence.