A Man of the Waste

by Margaret Killjoy
Icar relaxed in the shade of the brick store, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the cobblestone, his small pack at his side. He had never seen been to The Vare, and the city was disorientating; people of all sizes and styles hustled their way through mid-day crowds without saying hello to one another, and nobody had yet taken any notice of the gangly, shirtless stranger from the Waste.