A pear lay on the roadside, half eaten. No, wait, just twice bitten. It lay near the open drain, twice-bitten, soiled. Some ants were busy taking their share from it and flies hovered over it.
A little further from the pear, at the dead end of the gully, was blood on the walls. Someone was shot in the leg. A little further away from the blood-stained walls was a group of men in khakis wearing helmets, with batons, guns, pellet guns in hand...
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