Hill. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ” “Oh, Lucy, I never have stopped thinking about you since the first day I walked you home. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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