Time for another Five Sentence Fiction entry! 
Here is my contribution to Lillie McFerrin’s weekly challenge:

Tattered


He looked as though he hardly remembered what it was to have a square meal, or a bed that didn’t smell or crawl with bugs. He was a pitiful heap of humanity: slumped shoulders, chin tucked against his chest, tangled hair crawling with lice.  He trembled in the corner by the door, and picked nervously at his pitiful clothes with filthy fingernails. Only his eyes – large, pale gray and ever-so-slightly slanted – showed any speck of color. There was life in there, too, though I had a hard time proving it since he avoided looking anyone in the face.
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