Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

autumn leaves underfoot smelled of rich earth and cold decay, a sharp contrast to the sterile peppermint smell of David’s clinic.

Arthur kept his eyes on the trail, his breathing becoming audible before we reached the first quarter-mile marker.

“The grade is flat here,” David said, pointing toward the wooden bridge ahead. “The town put this gravel down continue reading …