Disclaimer: About the same as always, I'm out of my head, and know not what I do.

Pairing: Heero/Duo - a touch
Rating: PG-13 ... or R if you're sensitive.
Warnings: AU, language, shounen ai, mention of past rape/killing/beatings, suggestive talk, Duo POV

A/N: Uh, yeah. This started out as a response for two things: the GW500 and Saro saying I had to write something "dirty and gritty" to get the taste of sugar fluff out of her mouth from my last stories. This would do it. I knew it was going to be more than five hundred words, but thought it'd be shorter than this! Ah well... it's a good short tale. Oh, and there's some post notes concerning things mentioned in this story, in case you're interested.

Government Cheese
by Merith

I hate the last Tuesday of the month.

Pulled from a fleeting dream by Hilde hollering from down the hall, I wanted nothing more than to drop back into the porno of my own making. The hard-on I sported, demanded attention. But knowing if I didn't respond, Hil would be opening the door, making her demands in person. The last time she walked in on me beating my meat, she didn't let it drop for over a month.

"Yeah, in a minute!" I yelled back, getting out of bed. And ignored the need. At least for the moment. Once my duty was over with, once the twins were packed off to day camp, and once Hil went to bed for the day, I could roll action on Studman Productions.

"Morning," she tossed over her shoulder, smiling when I stumbled into the kitchen moments later. She was standing at the stove, making oatmeal for the boys.

I paused, milk carton to my mouth and looked at her over its rim. Way too happy after pulling a twelve. "You high?" I had to ask.

Her normal scowl returned. "Fuck you." Turning her back to me, she continued to stir the paste crap. "And get a glass, asshole. No one wants your germs."

"You did, once," I shot back, grinning.

She answered with a lone finger held over her shoulder. "When I was five and you were straight, faggot."

The trade in barbs over, she pulled out a couple plastic bowls from the cupboard, and announced, "I made a ten dollar tip last night, and Frank asked me out on a date." She spun to face me, the smile back. "A real live date. Can you believe it?"

The girl was practically dancing, the excitement rolled off her. It'd been years since she'd been like that, since the shit we don't talk about happened to her. I only nodded, putting the milk back. "That's great, Hil."

The twins shuffled in about then, Bobby rubbing at his eyes, and Billy with his shirt on inside out. I stopped him, and made the change without saying a word. A sleepy-eyed, four year old was allowed those mistakes. Hilde finished doctoring the boys' cereal and plopped the bowls on the table, chattering away about her Frank. Like always. A regular customer, he often came in at least twice during her shift just to talk to her. I haven't met the guy yet, but he sounded like someone Hil would like back. And he'd been the only man interested in her in recent months who had a job and wasn't looking for her to support him.

"You'd better hurry, Duo. I'll be along after the camp bus comes." She made shushing motions with her hands, making the twins laugh.

I smiled but gave her a quick hug as I passed. "It is great news, sis."

Shutting the door firmly behind me, I jumped the three steps and headed down the drive. Our street was quiet, at least this early in the morning. Friday and Saturday nights, though, were a different story. Most of the neighbors didn't cause trouble, it was the cruisers. Two blocks south at the edge of the main strip, the boys in their souped up, chopped up, beefed up toys raced down the street and up to the next corner to rejoin the fray. Fuckin' stupid-assed punks, anyway. I wanted a cigarette, but didn't have the buck-fifty for a pack. Instead, I walked, fast.

I'd been making this same trip every month for the last two years, since I'd turned sixteen. It was just a small part of being family - my duty, my obligation, my contribution. I worked on and off when I could, but not enough to do more than make sure we had heat in the winter and cool air in the summer. Hilde wouldn't let me drop out of school, said one idiot in the house was bad enough. I glared at the concrete.

Traffic picked up on Abbott. The tired residential melded into store fronts with barred windows and neon signs. There were fewer weeds growing between the cracks of the sidewalk, but the trash increased. A laundromat, advertising large load washers and air conditioning. A bar, with its walls reeking of piss and vomit. An empty lot filled with glass, paper, boxes, metal fencing, a dirty mattress - all discards no one cared about. A pawn shop sat on the corner, black letters on white cardboard stuck in the window, gold wedding rings and promising quick cash for unwanted jewelry; a beginning and an end. My eyes skated past the lump of snoring clothing slouched over in the doorway.

Across the street, lining the wall of a boarded up dry goods store, a few of the girls were left and only one or two of the boys. A pay- by-the-hour motel not a block away was good for business. At a glance, I recognized two from school. One of the boys was a year younger than me, a dropout and runaway, I'd heard rumor he'd become a tweaker. The girl used to be a friend of Hil's from seventh grade. They'd danced in the livingroom to songs on the radio, slept in the same bed and giggled all night about boys in their classes. She looked too thin, even from this distance. I turned my attention back to the concrete.

Hilde and the twins were the only family left. It'd come close to not having even them. Way back when, once upon a time, her mom and my dad married, making us siblings. Growing up together, there wasn't a whole lot either of us didn't know about the other; wasn't a whole lot either of us wouldn't do for the other.

I crossed at Seventh, stopping in the middle to let the delivery truck pass. Down two blocks, I paused at the tracks. There wasn't many trains that came through any more, but every once in awhile, one would surprise you. The warehouse I headed for was less than a mile along the track shortcut, and almost two if I stayed on the streets. The smell of pine and tar was strong away from the street, noises were muted. Hilde would have a cow if she knew I walked the rails. Like what happened with my father, she was afraid I'd share his fate.

Like I'd let a train hit me.

If I wanted to die, there were better ways. If I ever faced a train, I'd be stopping it - wanna be Superman or not. Dying in the process didn't concern me. I would not lay down to let one take my life. Not like him.

Son of a bitch. Lost his job and thought the world was flushed down the toilet. His wife had to work, in fact at the very same hash shack Hilde does now, and he was ashamed of being unemployed. I was six and could remember him leaving the house, wasn't even dark. He never looked back, never said a word. It was two days before they found his body. Mangled and bloated, officials concluded he'd been walking the rail and was clipped by a train - the two o'clock special. He'd been flung into a short patch of weeds flanking the tracks, a short stretch of land between the business district and another residential area.

Hilde's mom took me in, though through some stupid red tape she couldn't claim social security. Not for her, not even for me. Here I was, his only kid, and because the whore he impregnated didn't take the time to fill out the birth certificate form, and the bastard didn't correct the mistake, I became an instant nonentity. I was almost shunted off to foster care.

From the tracks, I pushed my way through a collection of barrels, rotting pallets and bundled boxes. The narrow alley barely let me through, the sides of both buildings seemed to crowd closer together every year; odors of cheap wine, semen, filthy bodies, and human waste condensed and visible, hanging like fog between the walls. Holding your breath wasn't an option. It was a necessity.

There, another block and the wait would begin.

Leaning against the red brick side of the abandoned warehouse, I watched as others gather nearby, waiting for the doors to open and begin admitting us poor schleps. The once cheery yellow paint coating the old warehouse had long faded, dingy as an aging deb's white prom dress. Behind the iron bars girding the window, I could see a corner of one pane missing. It hadn't been broke the month before.

I smelled the cigarette before I realized he was there. Tilting my head slightly, I spotted another boy about my age leaning against the wall, like me. The difference was immediate, though. In his designer jeans and pressed cambry shirt, he advertised of not being a local. Some uptown punk coming down to make trouble. I thought of moving across the street and would have, if he hadn't said anything.

"You hustle?"

It took a moment for the words to register. I shifted to where one hip rested against the brick, my face settled into an icy glare. "Fuck off."

He changed his stance to mimic mine, cigarette held to his lips. "You should." It wasn't so much what he was saying, I'd been approached before. But how he was saying it. Cool, unaffected, not the least bit interested.

I took my time raking eyes over him. Styled, just mussed dark brown hair, wide cheeks on a thin face, and a mouth made for kissing. His shoulders weren't so much broad as well developed, filling the lax space in his shirt. Narrow waist, tight package, and slender legs ending in Doc Martens. He appeared as a gay GQ coverboy. Toss in a rainbow button and he'd be able to write his own ticket.

"Do you hustle?" I vollied back.

Lips turned up one corner. "I don't have to." His eyes had been doing their own assessing, and I stood straight, staring him down. My secondhand clothing altogether wouldn't have cost as much as his pair of socks. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asked softly.

I looked again, interest creeping in where rejection would have dismissed him. It was his eyes that'd done it. "Heero?" He nodded. Isn't that the shit. I took in his outfit again and glanced up and down the street. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Been busy?"

"I finished my program, the one for the video game." His eyes had lost some of the chill and he fished out a pack of Marlboros. He held them out to me. "Smoke?"

He didn't have to ask me twice. I hadn't seen any but generics since I picked up the habit, let alone smoked a name brand. "Thanks man." Before I could reach for the lighter in my pocket, he held his flame up for me to use. There was something going on I'd yet to figure out. A guy I hadn't seen in at least two years, looking like he'd stepped off a cover shoot, suddenly appearing at a government give away? I inhaled and savored the texture. Mighty fine shit. Blowing the smoke out, I asked, "So what are you doing here?"

Since I hadn't bothered to hide the suspicion in my voice, he shot me a look and snorted. Dropping the spent butt, he crushed it out beneath the thread of a boot I could only dream of owning. "To see you."

That startled me. "What the fuck? You high?"

Already shaking his head, he continued to stare at me. Like he waited for an answer. This was his game and I didn't feel like playing. Giving him a response would lead to more, and I only wanted to get my cheese and go home. I turned away from him, leaned back against the bricks and scanned the warehouse across the street. The doors still hadn't opened, and the small crowd got thicker.

There were the old ladies, the ones who still believed you dressed up when you left the house, not caring that their make-up stood out bold and glaring on cheeks and lips. There were the indigents with nothing better to do, and schemes to sell parts of their take for pennies. Wine or crack if they had other change. Danny, the cripple, who'd lost part of his leg in Vietnam, had been given space near the door. Though he'd been offered a chair, he preferred to get around on crutches. Willie, the bag lady from Crane Street, hung back talking to herself, peering through the contents of her cart. I wondered for a moment if she'd gained weight and then realized she wore extra layers of clothing. She'd feel it in an hour when the sun started baking and the asphalt threw it back in her face.

"I've never done drugs."

I'd almost forgotten Heero was still there. I shot him a glance and turned back to my perusal. "Bully for you." I sucked in more smoke, and blew it out. He was speaking again.

"There were two things I wanted to accomplish when we went to school. One was to finish the program and sell it. Make money, create more programs, make more money. That goal I've met." He paused, and I couldn't help but look back at him.

"And the other?" I asked, more curious than I wanted to be.

He leaned forward, narrowing the small gap that'd grown between us. "To kiss Duo Maxwell." I stared at him for a moment longer. Then laughter like I hadn't felt in years burst out. I knew I was attracting attention from the waiting crowd. I could feel the anger and confusion coming from Heero. But I couldn't stop.

"That isn't a goal. That's a death wish," I gasped out, wiping under an eye with the pad of a thumb. "Shit, Heero. You crazy or something?"

For the first time, he seemed uncertain, not so sure of himself. He looked away and shook his head in a short negative. "It had been a goal for most of Sophomore year. And I would have pursued it further, but then that stuff happened..." he trailed off and my good humor evaporated.

"Yeah," was all I could manage. I rubbed the butt out against the building behind me, no longer looking at Heero. He would bring that up, even if obliquely. My life revolved around tragedy, I couldn't help tripping over it. "So, what's the deal asking me if I turned tricks? What kind of shit is that?"

He was shifting around again, his shirt rustled and the denim scratched on the wall. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. "I could take you away from this place you know. Set you up, show you things, give you things. I've got the money."

"Fuck you," I told him without rancor. "This place is where I live. Where my family is." I didn't want to fight him, I just wanted him gone. I didn't like the memories he brought up. I didn't like the opportunity he showcased.

His fingertips touched my shoulder. "Let me help you, Duo."

"I'm not a whore and don't plan to be one any time soon." Now I was torn. If I went to join the crowd, would he follow? And if he followed, would he continue?

"You wouldn't be one. You'd only be with me." His tone held more inflection than it ever had today or in memory.

I glared at him. "I'd still be a whore, Heero. When you fuck in exchange of goods, you're selling yourself."

"Then I'll give it to you, without sex if that's what it takes."

"I'm not fucking Cinderella. I don't need you acting like some stupid knight on a white charger come to rescue..."

"It's a Nissan 350Z," he interrupted.

I blinked at him for a moment. "What is?"

"My steed. It's not a Charger, it's a Nissan 350Z." The fucker was actually smiling. I couldn't help the smile in return.

"Your humor sucks."

"But my car rocks," he was still grinning.

The doors opened and the queue began to form. "Hey, nice talking to you and all, but I gotta go." I shoved off the wall and stepped out into the street. He was at my side. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I won't rescue you, but I'd still like to help." He wasn't looking at me, but watched the crowd instead. I grunted in response and took my place.

It hadn't always been like this. At least not when Hilde's mom was alive. She had some money, and worked hard. It'd been her, Hil and I for years. At least, until Neal came. I had to stop myself from shaking my head. Some women just pick the losers. Hilde's father had taken off on her weeks before Hil was born. My dad killed himself in a fit of depression. And Neal smacked her around like she was his personal punching bag.

The first time it happened, I'd been scared. Only eleven, I woke to hear her screaming and then the slaps turning into punches. Hilde and I yelled at the creep and he left, slamming the door behind him. He didn't come back for a week. It'd become a pattern, Neal having a rough day, stopping at the bar after work, and something real or imagined would piss him off and his fists would fly. Hil and I would beg her to kick him to the curb, turn him into the police, anything to get him out of our lives. But she was a man's woman, and needed him. By the time something was done about it, it was too late.

Hilde had been sick that day and stayed home. Neal had been laid off at the factory and came home after a few rounds with others who'd lost their jobs. Hilde's mom blamed herself. And while part of me did too, I knew better. The son-of-a-bitch had passed out in her bed after he'd punched her around a bit, raped her, sodomized her. Hilde wasn't her mother by a long shot. She got a knife from the kitchen and cut the fucker. Cut him where he wouldn't be able to get it up again. He screamed so loud, the neighbor across the street called the cops and he went to prison.

Two months later she was pregnant. At fourteen. Fuck, what a life.

Because of his inebriated state, his mental health, and suffering already incurred, he'd been given a light sentence. Still, it was more than a shock to learn he'd been released after serving two years.

I was fifteen when it happened. Hilde had a part time job waitressing over lunch hour and her mom watched the twins. They were barely a year old, asleep in Hilde's room and the bastard broke in. Officially, she died from the gunshot wounds. Unofficially, it was said she would have died from the beating he gave her. When the cops finally came, they found him with the twins, one on each knee, bouncing them a horsy ride. He'd told the cops he only wanted to see his kids and the bitch wouldn't let him. He's still waiting on death row.

"Morning, Duo," the intake worker smiled at me. She was young and new. It was still within her ideals to be perky, and know her clients. "How have you been this month?"

She had nice teeth and smelled good. "Hey Suzette. Okay, I guess," I answered, letting her see my card. "Been trying to get a job, but I guess you can't help with that, can you?" She lost some of her smile and shook her head. "Oh well, there's always three C's." I moved on to pick up my box, not caring what Heero did. But since I had to wait for Willie to shuffle her cart through the narrow walk space, I did hear Suzette asking Heero the standard questions. Ones the government needed to keep demographic data at their various distribution centers.

"Duo," she called out to me. I turned slowly, wondering what Heero was up to now. "Heero is telling me he's lost his ID and will be staying with you for a bit. Is what he saying true?"

I flashed Heero a look. He stared back without blinking. Slowly I nodded. "He's lost it alright, and I guess he'll be staying for a bit with me."

Suzette smiled with dimples and wrote out a card for Heero. After stamping it, she handed it to him, reminding him to bring it back when he returned. He nodded solemnly before moving to stand behind me in line.

"Asshole," I whispered roughly without turning. The line moved, and line workers began filling my box. A can of lard that's only good for greasing squeaky lug nuts. A couple boxes of cereal. A large container of peanut butter. Several cans of vegetables, a huge block of cheese, a box of instant mashed potatoes, a sack of flour, and powered milk mix. Tina snuck a small bag of candy into my box with a wink and I gave her one back. Reggie had a thing for white boys, and baked cookies before these give aways that he packed in special bags for them. I noticed Heero got one too.

We stood on the sidewalk, lugging too heavy boxes to carry comfortably and I looked at Heero. "You drive here?" I demanded. At his nod, I grated out, "Then don't make a liar of me and drive me home, stay for a bit and get the fuck out of my life." I was suddenly pissed, and Heero made a good target.

He only nodded again and led the way.

I found out what a Nissan 350Z was. I guess if I had money, I'd get one too. The trunk was too small for both the boxes, so I held mine. The summer sun had come out brilliant and strong, and he'd tossed me a pair of sunglasses from a console compartment, pulling on another pair himself. As he powered away from the curb, he lowered the top letting the wind whip around the edges of the windshield, tearing words he might have said away. With the light traffic, he drove too fast, squealing around corners only to brake suddenly at a stopped vehicle in the way. Other than an amusement park ride I'd been on as a kid, it was unlike anything else I'd ever experienced and it was the most fun I'd had in months. His car was a different world and when we stopped, I half expected to be down the rabbit hole. For the moment, I could pretend to be somewhere else, be someone else.

Hilde came to the door when Heero parked in the drive, her face pinched and worried, wondering what trouble I'd gotten into I'm sure. I smiled and rolled my eyes from the car, reaching for the door handle. Heero had jumped over his closed door and ran around to let me out. I glared at him.

"Fuck off, Yuy. I don't need your help." Hilde was down the steps eyeing the little blue thing. "You remember Heero from school, Hil? I ran into him down at the center."

Heero nodded to her. "She was already out of school before I began." I felt an instant wave of gratitude for his discretion. He'd moved to the trunk and I jerked my head for Hilde to follow me back inside.

"Who is this guy?" she whispered, leaning into me.

After glancing over my shoulder to see if he was following, I answered back in a lower whisper. "We used to have a couple of classes together. He had a crush on me. Made some money on some video game he created, and wanted to see what's up." I set my box down on the counter and said louder, "He's not staying long."

"Oh." Hilde leaned against the counter-top with her arms crossed, her look going between the two of us. "How'd you get two boxes, Duo?"

I stopped unpacking mine to see Heero still standing in the doorway with his. I shrugged. "That's Heero's." I went back to putting things away.

"I got this for you," he stated, offering it up.

"Great!" Hilde shot forward and took the box from him. "That means I don't have to go today, and can hit the give away next week on Filmore." She grinned and started to unpack his box. Heero stepped up beside her to help.

He brought over the can of peanut butter, and held it out to me. "How can you eat that?" his tone was fairly disgusted.

We locked gazes for a moment. "When you get hungry, you don't care what you eat. Peanut butter sandwiches kept us from starving, once. At least until the bread ran out." I slammed the cupboard door shut with a little more force than necessary and turned away.

"Erm, if this is it, I'm going to bed," Hilde announced. A flush lighted my face. She's already been up for at least nineteen hours, working over twelve of them.

"Go to bed. I can finish putting the rest away." I even managed a smile for her as she shuffled past in her slippers and uniform dress from the coffee shop.

I felt a touch on my arm and glanced over at Heero. "I apologize. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't know."

"Doesn't matter. Hand me those boxes of cereal would you?" This guy was going to be out of our lives in a few minutes, and nothing he did or said would matter.

When we were finished, he stood awkward by the cheap dinette set. I almost felt sorry for him. He was a nice guy, when he wasn't being an asshole. "Would you like to go for a drive? Grab something to eat?"

I shook my head. Oh, yeah, I would like to, but there were things that needed to be done and hanging out with Heero wasn't going to get them there. "Can't. Have to do some laundry and clean stuff up here. Then if there's time, I have to go look for a new job."

"You said something about that at the center." Heero moved closer. "Let me get you a job, at least."

"Heero, damn it. Just when I think you're becoming an okay guy, you have to go and be a jerk! Just stop with the rescuing thing, okay?" He held my gaze for a moment before giving a short nod. "Good. It's not so bad right now. Hilde's working extra hours, and I watch the twins while she works. We make do. Food stamps and government cheese. If I can hold my grades senior year, I have a scholarship in the bag. If not," I shrugged. "I work for awhile. No big deal."

He fiddled with his keys in his pocket. "Could I see you again? I mean, take you somewhere, be with you?"

I stared at him for a moment, his face showing me an honest open expression for the first time that morning. My eyes slid from his too earnest look to dart over the worn formica counter tops, the colorless linoleum, the cheap table and chairs, the old miss-matched appliances. "What do you want?" I asked almost uninterested.

"When I was fifteen, my dad left us. My mother had nothing, dad had cleaned out all the accounts, sold all the assets. Mom had no jobs skills; she only knew how to be a wife and mother. She sold all her jewelry, anything of value just to pay what was owed. We moved to a ratty little shit-hole off Fourth and New Deal." He kept his tone low, dispassionate as though relaying the weather. I'd never known much about Heero, even in school. He never offered anything personal unless it concerned school.

"Before we left the old house, those I knew as friends wouldn't speak to me. Those I knew as not friends, harassed me. After we moved, I knew no one. I was taunted daily about the way I dressed, about my speech, about being rich. And other than the teachers, only one person had been friendly to me at that school."

His eyes bore into me and I couldn't look away. I remembered. I knew. What had started out to get the new kid to at least look at something else besides books had become an odd friendship. He rarely spoke to me, but I did my upmost to be around him when I could. Except for lunchtime. And never after school. There'd been too much going on at home. Later, after all the shit went down, I didn't even realize he was gone.

"I wanted to see you again. To see if you were that same person," his voice died out.

"Guess I failed that test," I cracked out and looked away.

"No, that's not true." He moved to stand next to me, his fingers grazing my arm. "Those around you still gravitate to you. Those people at the center, Hilde. You've had a lot of shit in your life, but you still laugh. You still smile."

He was wearing some cologne, lightly spicy and expensive. His fingers had stopped at my wrist and I suddenly thought of my dream that morning. The mysterious porno king was standing before me. My eyes flicked from his hand to his eyes. He continued to watch me. "A kiss, huh?" A flash of surprise was gone in a moment and he nodded slowly. "I can't let a guy go with a goal unfulfilled, can I?" I murmured even as my eyes closed, even as I pushed forward reaching for him.

Our lips touched briefly, hardly more than a breathe and I stepped back. I almost didn't. I wanted more, but for all my talk, my dreams of it being otherwise, I had just experienced my first kiss. Heero swayed on his feet. He drew a thick shuddering breath and opened his eyes. They were slightly glazed.

"Thank you," his voice a whisper.

I nodded. "Uh, I... I guess you could come back. If you wanted to."

Heero smiled. "Tonight? I'll bring pizza."

It took less than a second to decide. "Yeah, tonight would work. Hilde's shift starts at six. The twins go to bed at seven-thirty and then we could watch a movie or something."

At sometime in there, his hand had slipped into mine and he gave it a squeeze. "I'll go now, but I'll be back tonight at five with pizza and a movie."

I stood on the steps and watched him back out onto the street. He waved from the road and I waved back. I thought of that night and maybe another kiss. It wouldn't be in trade for dinner, it would be for the boy himself. He could take his money and shove it. But if a simple kiss could twist knots to my insides and give me a boner harder than the most exciting porno dream, I wanted another.

Yeah, I think I could get used to having someone around like that.

A couple of after notes:

First, there's the matter of Heero's carSee, while I know a bit about cars, I'm not good at choosing the exact car for that person/setting. My friend Alba is. She suggested this one, though her first thought was a Porsche, it might have been too much for the Heero of this story.

Second, a little story about Government Cheese. Not sure if any of you have ever been privileged to participate in government give aways, or any type of free/assisted food type programs, so this story is actually based off of my own experiences at the give aways. We'd call them "Government Cheese" because you always got a block of cheese. And no, it is not cheddar. It's an oddly flavored processed American cheese - sort of like that cheese mix you get with mac-n- cheese with fat and a bitter citrus peel taste. You could taste the chemicals they put in it. It's primary use was to add to casseroles, or disguise in something you don't taste the cheese in anyway. Now things might be different from when I went through the program - it has been years... twenty of them? The lard is actually marked lard, and is like lumpy shortening. The peanut butter isn't as bad, but not Skippy. It's more like a no name/store brand. And it's great for making peanut butter cookies. The govn'mt workers in this story are more or less a collection of ones I've come across in various offices. Intake workers so squeaky new and idealistic. Others who'll bend the rules a little for those they liked. And some who had favorites, and would go the extra mile for.

Last, a "tweaker" as mentioned for the boy prostitute, is really a crackhead. Someone mostly always high, working for the next high, or coming down from one.

So, that's it. Hope you enjoyed!


on to 'government cheese: a year in the future'

back to fiction

back to merith fiction

back home