It’s just another day before a storm.
The sun is felt even from behind the clouds, and the heat hangs in the air.
A final chance to sit among the green grasses of the stream. Where so much is barren, it is always so green here.
The bridge painted red to keep vile creatures at bay. To stop them from crossing over, or from rising up from underneath. Its color lingers on the waters, still by little wind and creeping flow.
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