I love the time, right before a storm, when the wind comes in gusts and blows your hair unkempt and into your face. The air begins to smell so fresh. It's electrified and you can feel it by the hairs on your arms. The clouds loom above in their gloom, and when you breathe, you have to breathe deep.
What. am I dong up at this hour?
I rode my horse at
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