Again she heard the creek splashing along behind
the house, the liquid chatter almost a silver stream running through the night
itself. Throwing her supplies back into her bag, she heard movement in the yard
behind. Or thought that she did. When she turned, there was nothing but the
empty yard and the night ripening beyond the dim border of the porch light.
- Part II, eleven coming soon! -
An open ended narrative about life in a small town on the border of California and possibility.
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