Reegan Wolford

Tesorino

The sweltering heat of another summer’s day bore into Edmundo de Santi’s back as he strode into the market. Sweat coated his body, soaking through his once-white button down shirt. That always seemed to happen to people living in Cessirae. Finery went to waste faster than money changed hands in the back alleys of the city. No one was rich or poor in Cessirae, they just were. At least, that’s what the government tried to shove down it’s people’s throats from their ivory pulpets.