... down a hole.

 
 

His thankless eyes pierce the warm cradle: that fleshy promise of solace from a bitter cold... Some shuffling steps--imminence of joy and release--exhilaration mere moments-- GLORY UPON THY LOINS!!!… A flash of sky, seized by disbelief, the brandish of frozen ground across his back, hope banished as quickly as it was born.

How now brown cow?

 


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