First, they are rumors. Cath saw them the day before yesterday, flying over the house. Ian comes in through the back door as I’m standing by the coffee pot, the brittanys at his heels, telling me he just heard them overhead. Maybe they landed out back? I’m out in the yard, coffee forgotten, but they’re already gone.
beautiful, especially this: "agglomerating and fissioning against the dry foothills, the pines, the rushing crown fire of an early October aspen glade on Greenie Mountain..."
beautiful, especially this: "agglomerating and fissioning against the dry foothills, the pines, the rushing crown fire of an early October aspen glade on Greenie Mountain..."
really good, ethan