For Micro Bookends.



New people came and went all the time. The little girl with the tire meant nothing to me until weeks later.

Old Man came out to feed us that morning as usual.

“Morning, Ben.”

“Maaaa,” I replied.

A truck sped down the drive with the little girl in the back. She threw a bag at Old Man.

“Your payment,” she said.

“That won’t even cover the tire,” Old Man said.

The truck sped away. Old Man opened the bag and a pile of old clothes fell out.

That’s all I know. I might have the details wrong, though. I mean…I’m a goat. I don’t even wear clothes.

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