Allow me to tell you a story. This is not my story. My own life story is boring and would probably not interest you. I have been cursed with being extraordinarily ordinary and unfortunately this makes my life fairly predictable. I do have a part to play in this story, but that will come a bit later.
This story begins along Taft Avenue, in a small two storey cafe called Chateau Azul, named because of its blue facade which is ironic because the color blue is anathema in these parts. At this time of the night, around two hours to midnight, the first floor is haunted mostly by students, either writing some last minute paper, reading a book or just drinking some cheap coffee with friends or lovers.
Outside is a young boy, aged ten but his short height makes him look much younger than that, maybe a seven…
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