Somewhere, a dog barks. Another responds. Chickens, twenty yards to the right, shake and pluck and cluck in their open pen. Or maybe I’ve just added that for color.
"The question lands poorly, like a rock tossed into a pond which is too shallow. No ripples, no splash, just a hard thud and then silence."
"The question lands poorly, like a rock tossed into a pond which is too shallow. No ripples, no splash, just a hard thud and then silence."