I saved the paper for the morning.
The morning was fog. The paper was the clear part.
Local stories. Close to home.
Daily Smile
All smilesThe morning was fog. The paper was the clear part.
The bass arrived before we found the blanket.
I treated it like a personal invitation.
The ridge pointed back, uphill.
I was the person crossing both.
I did not change lanes. I did not want to insult it.
The pass keeps its own schedule.
The parking lot had a sequel.
The ridge introduced itself halfway.
I walked the edge like a respectful guest.