Mean Chris Chan

Mean Chris ChanA Short Storyby Jane DoeShane Superhalk had always loved sleepy Exeter with its uneven, unrealistic umbrellas. It was a place where he felt fuzzy. He was a wild, admirable, tea drinker with hairy feet and ginger thighs. His friends saw him as a wide, weary writer. Once, he had even helped a short blind person cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.