Call me Fluffy…


He rode into town again.

The wind was herding the detritus in from the wilderness and he turned-up, no horse, no saddle and no name; again.

He had been a long time in the badlands and they had taken their toll. Whoever he had been before that, he now did not know. He had once had a horse, he reminded himself, but was not so sure if that was for real or whether that had been a dream brought on by his wanderings. His name, he had left a long time ago in a forgotten town in a forgotten country.

Now this woman was introducing him to another, but she didn’t know his name.

She knew the name of the cat that wandered in from the cold to scratch the back of its ear, but his name, this stranger who had been in town for two months, had escaped her.

“My name is…” he paused, “Fluffy. My name is Fluffy.”


And Fluffy the supply teacher went about his business without a horse or saddle, but with a new name. 


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