It seems like there is someone standing right behind me all the time. Call it conscience, guilt, angel enforcers, whatever. Any minute they will draw their sword and take my head off with a single highlander turned samurai warrior chop.
This week I read of a man jogging on a beach being killed by an airplane landing on him. I swear I keep hearing low flying aircraft.
You don't know what you want until you get it and then you are usually half way through with it when you figure it out. The great moments in stories where people put the puzzle together and figure out that which had eluded them the first 300 pages never seem to happen in real life. That moment comes sitting on a riding tractor with hat hair in the rain . I can't figure it out.
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