Correction: It is raining here.
I went walking on Green Lake, slushy ice-snow under my feet, Coal snicketing along ahead of me. I felt like an ant walking across a snare drum. On the other side of the lake, once I'd made it back to shore, a freight train passed by, filling up the whole horizon, exiting stage right. It rumbled with all it had and went in shades of brown and green, a rusty testament to some sort of human technological marvel, years past.
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