974. Expatriate Version II
He walked to the bathroom on protestant knees, kneading the doughy frame his past self had begrudged his present and bequeathed his future.
He considered, as he did with regularity, his station as a man, an expatriate from the life he deserved.
Fairly, one might ask how he could claim allegiance to a homeland that was never his.
He searched for his running shoes which were quite old.
974. Expatriate Version I
I am an expatriate from a life I deserve.
Quite accurately, you might ask why I think myself travelling son of a place that’s never been home to me.
That is fair.
My running shoes are quite old.
I’d love to know which was your favourite. As always, you can read all the rest of the four-sentence stories.