He stood at the top of the street and looked at the faded history. Shop names from his childhood had been eroded by indifference, an aura of rust coating the town.
He closed his eyes and remembered how he, Rupert and Evie used to cycle down the hill, legs thrown out as wide as their sense of freedom. He used to squeeze the breaks so that Evie would win and throw him her dazzling smile.
He was not going to let his town become dust. He lifted his placard and began his march, the small crowd urging him on.
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