Lake Lewisia #483

[scrubjayspeaks]

“This is the year,” he said, loading the trunk of the car with radios and collapsible antennas and quartz points lashed together with electrical tape. “This is the year,” they said, throwing another log on the fire with one hand while the other kept stirring the thickly bubbling cauldron widdershins. “This is the year,” she said, backpack hitched up onto her shoulders, boots already carrying her toward her future one gravel-crunching step at a time, the talking cat waiting impatiently at the end of the drive.

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LL#483