The Hobo And The Kite

The old hobo hitched his heavy pack a little higher up his tired aching back,it was a hot day and he had been walking for most of it.He was a man of the highway,a traveler,if you will.
He had been a hobo since the days of the great
depression,back then,it had been a necessity,now
it was a way of life.
He glanced briefly up at the noon day sun and wiped the salty sweat from his face with the tattered sleeve of his well worn shirt,up ahead
he saw a large oak tree and thought about food
and hoped that the tree would aford a little respite from the sweltering heat.
Upon reaching the oak tree,he flung his heavy
pack upon the ground and sat down heavily beside it with a tired grunt,once again wiping his old face with the sleeve of his shirt,he rumaged through his pack looking for the package of bologna he had swiped from a store this morning in the last town he had passed through.

Story ID:	1469
Written by:	Bobby O'neill Mitchum (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Phenix City Alabama U.S.A.
Year:	2007
Person:	wolf mitchum