Untitled Writing
        The measureless sapphire sky stretched out before the immense army of golden stalks in the farmer fields of Wisconsin. Rolling hills and hefty barns dotted the landscape. Black and white cows grazed in the lush pastures, and horses galloped in their enclosed haven. Birds glided through the wide open country air, and barn owls made their homes in the rooftops of the barns. 

 Inwards, towards the city of about 13,000 citizens, the scenery transformed into standard buildings, homes, and businesses with the occasional cemetery. Main street intersected with a county highway that split the city into two halves. Parallel to the highway, ran rusty metal train tracks from east to west. The trains maneuvered these tracks past a millpond, fountains floating in the middle of the man-made pool. To the eastern side of the small millpond, a wooden bridge connected the two sides over a dam. The post office was located north of the wooden bridge. Upon crossing the wooden bridge, one could find themselves walking down a small path behind main street buildings. This is the place where anyone could find me.

I frequented this spot to further my drawing skills. I would sit on the southern side of the narrow creek that originated from the dam and the millpond. Sitting cross-legged or on the picnic table and facing the side of the post office became my favorite spot. My pencil etched the floral hillside onto regular notebook paper, and worked it's way around the page. On the wooden, graffiti tagged picnic table, my phone vibrated. Instintively, my hand shot towards it. Phone call. Ugh. 
"Hello?" I flipped open the phone and asked.

"Hey! I was wondering if you and I could hang out and take a bike ride somewhere." the male fellow, Todd, outgoingly spoke. Well, my hand and my behind was starting to hurt a little from sitting so long.

"Uh, yeah, sure. You know where I'm at. I just gotta pack up my things."

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Short Story
writing JGM81192
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