He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
There’s always a story. It’s all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything’s got a story in it. Change the story, change the world. — Terry Pratchett
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