We drove through misty rain, past clouds that wanted snow, and hills that promised nearby mountains. Weaving down highway two we came upon small train stop towns and all the scenes and views I spent so much energy trying to see even while in sunny Georgia. The characters in the piece I've been writing walk along these streets and watch these very trees turn in the fall. They stand on these porches and look out towards the ends of these roads.
It's good to be back.
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