The other day I took a long walk through the sagebrush despite the impending storm clouds, a harsh black ceiling hovering over the horizon, daunting and yet comically fluffy. I watched it in the distance looming, spraying patches of walking rain across the desert. Despite the cool moist breeze against my face, I convinced myself it was moving in the other direction as I ventured farther and farther across the mesa, certainly the tallest object within a mile radius.
Winds changed and as I turned down another trail toward home, I noticed the storm clouds had crept around me like a stalking gloom, hanging over town in the distance and veiling the mountains. I heard a crash of thunder. A raven drifted in place, leaning into the strong winds. I was nearly encircled in the stormy darkness except for in the east where the sun was slowly descending behind the cerro.
My heart’s rhythm significantly sped up against my ribs. I decided it was time to evoke magic and I made myself a bubble of …
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