"the smell of leather fills their lungs, hollow straw and needle-tipped hay stuck to the bottom of their feet. hand in hand, tread in tread, their toes sunk into the muddy earth. the water dripping off their dirt smeared faces. feathers of gray lead their path. the yellow clouds in the distance beating a deep drum. the purple skies mixing with the gentle horsehair. soaked they collapse on the espresso slats, wrapped in cotton rugs beside the crackling jazz of fire. she breathes his name in. she breathes his name out."

julytwentyseventh.