Tea Tokes and Cake
Vaughn The midday was humid but thankfully not thickened by too much heat. The air just kind of hung there though broken by the odd truck rolling by and kicking up the road dust. It created the wondrous effect of wet grit. Vaughn Baker leaned his back against his truck chewed at the grit as it engulfed him again. He was a middle aged man with graying hair that was once brown and an ever present hint of a beard like he just couldn’t make up his damned mind about it. He was sporting black sunglasses, a fade black t shirt and worn out ripped grey jeans with old black sneakers. He has just rolled into Corran. It had once been the home of his maternal grandparents; John and Mary Kearney. Vaughn’s gaze was fixed on the land where their old house used to stand. It had been replaced by new housing. The whole neighbourhood had been redone but he knew the shape of the land and where the sun fell on its dips and rises. Change was a constant he knew all too well. There was a house
