I was sewn on the edge of his jacket. Kangol 1938 with a British flag engraved on me. Everything about me is fake and cheap, including the thread I was sewn with. He was leaning against the traffic light post, yawning. I was rubbed against the metal pole a few times until I fell off. And then someone stomped over me. Then somebody else. You should check out how many shoe soles I see.

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