dusk
The cinnamon tang of ferns Clicks of insects like the freewheel of a bicycle Treetops afire Dying orange light
Winging It – Chapter 3
The calendar confirmed it was Friday, and in small print next to the number were the words “Arbor Day”. He drew back just a bit at the realization. Arbor Day already? How had he forgotten?
Winging It – Chapter 2
“Second,” Roger said, raising a second finger, “there’d better be more to this than ‘I saw a kitty that looked like a _different_ kitty that I loved very very much despite the obvious world-ending danger…’”
