Author’s note: this is the concluding installment of the serial novel, The Confessor of Littlefield. The story will be reset
An old man, stooped and tottering through the snow. He holds his collar close. Stars twine his eyes and sicken
Life flows past through steep pits and hollow groves wind blows past in weak fits and power blows one step
Happy days are hear again! So, just what sort of prototype for happy days are we talking? the tv show?