Outside, small, widely spaced flakes fall. A pair of laughing toddlers upholstered in red ski overalls trot stiffly ahead of a woman pushing a stroller. Martin thinks of his twin brothers. Sadly, he no longer remembers their faces.

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
Outside, small, widely spaced flakes fall. A pair of laughing toddlers upholstered in red ski overalls trot stiffly ahead of a woman pushing a stroller. Martin thinks of his twin brothers. Sadly, he no longer remembers their faces.