Heat rises from the long stretch of asphalt, in waves it rises. The lake water now evaporated from my skin. The lake is my only escape from the boredom, which is my life: days at the lake with my dog, Red. The lake behind us some distance, Red runs along the edge of the woods as though he’s looking for something. A car appears on the horizon, a tiny dot so far ahead of me. Not many cars converse this road since the interstate was completed. Nobody lives in walking distance of us, which means I have a large back yard. Green grass sways in a gentle breeze and a bird chirps at the edge of the woods. The path to my house is in sight: it runs from the edge of the pavement toward the line of dancing trees. Red vanishes, ahead of me, down this trail. A trail created by years of feet treading where once the grass grew deep. The solitary yellow mailbox is the only visible evidence of the humanity that resides only a short distance within the embrace of trees. Red’s barking echoe...
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