“When I took my first step on the trail that would take me to the top of the mountain some thirteen thousand feet above, and as my first steps touched and gripped the loose dirt and gravel of the unpaved trail, the air took on the color of rain,” Sces told Alma. “What year was this?” Alma asked him as he leaned over in order to place his head on her chest. “It was two months after I left you,” he responded; his words did not reach Alma’s ears, for they traveled directly into her heart. “Then it was the same year when you killed those two men?” She asked. “Yes, the same year.” He responded.
Short Stories
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Wow, very interesting!