happy birthday, volgaHe was tired - super tired. He's been tired before, yes, but he was even more so than ever. His father had worked him to the bone today. He was glad to have worked under him and didn't regret not having any time off. He loved doing what he did every day. But this day was supposed to be special.No one even remembered! It was his damn birthday! His own father didn't even remember. Volgograd felt dejected, forgotten. His friends - the little he had - were expected to forget. But his own father? It made him want to cry - and he didn't do that often.Volga got off his boat and walked through the streets of his city. No one glanced at him purposely, no one knew him. They didn't bother to ask if he was depressed (because he looked very much like it) or cared to try and be his friend.This was like any other day, except he felt especially alone today. He rubbed at his visible eye as he reached his house.Pulling out his keys, the movement around his neck stopped him. Boris, his pet snake, sli
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