The stench of drunken lowlives drifted through

The stench of drunken lowlives drifted through the tavern, drenching everything in a mist of putrid scents. Corran sat in the back, keeping an eye on everything. So far, nothing.

Not like he was truly complaining. He was grateful, in a sense, for the cold calm. Corran closed his eyes for a brief moment, a sigh escaping his barely parted lips.

During the war, he had never had the time to breath. Now he had too much time.

The clock ticked. Birds outside tweeted. The ones indoors did not. They squawked! If only he could make sense of their gibberish, perhaps he could find a way out

One of the birds squawked particularly insistently. "Squawk squawk squawk" it squawked. It's brightly colored plummage and rainbow mohawk looked familiar. He approached the cage.

Up close, the caged bird bore a sharp resemblance to his late, alternate lifestyle aunt. Suddenly, the colorful fowl rolled over in a parody of committing suicide. Yup- Aunt 'Emo'.

The caged bird got back on its feet and looked at me with a serious and slightly mournful gaze. "Let me out and I'll teach you how to sort and fold socks. Not that you look like a

maid or anything, I just think that someone your age outta know how to take care of your socks.

"My socks?" I could not believe it. I had been taking care of socks for the past few years. Me, not taking care of my socks? That's

ridiculous. I spend practically all day with my socks, they’re one of the most important things to me. In fact, I realized just the other day, I might be in love with