Wallflower Girl (Chapter 4, page 2 of 8)


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She shook off the weirdness and drove on out of town and past all the grotty workshops and machinery places. The sunflowers were watching her again as she passed them, and she wondered if they actually turned their heads to face the sun, as they were all looking the same direction.

She crossed the rickety wooden bridge with the planks rattling their bolts. The sensation made her shiver. That thing felt unsafe. It should be replaced with something sturdier. It would be less picturesque to be sure, but safer. Maybe they could put this little historic bridge elsewhere, where people could see it, but wouldn't have to wear out their shocks driving over it, and risk ending up in the creek. Emerging from the tree line, she slowed and peered around, noting that all the big round bales were gone. Actually, there were still some, but they were in a line way up the back of the field.

Anne stopped at the padlocked gates where she had felt the most powerful nostalgic sensation the other day. She got out of the car and approached, touching the thick chain as a warm breeze caressed her face and the scent of pine and fresh hay assailed her and carried her mind up into the tops of the trees that surrounded the old farm buildings in front of her. She ducked through the gates and walked into the grove, looking in a small timber room that had a concrete wash tub and a rusted washing machine with the rollers on top.

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