A century ago
On the day she arrived, the world was weeping.
Out on the porch, his fingernails scraping on the rough end of a hewn two by four, Seth stared out at the vast expanse of green that surrounded his homestead. Seth detested green, never more so than on mornings like this when the overcast clouds turned the usual vibrancy to a stale, muddy gloom. It was a pale day, with grey, feeble light, and a monotone sky so chalky and still that it seemed almost anemic. Rain pattered down in drizzle and mist, turning the dust in the yard to mud, and as a fog rolled in from the west, he saw the overgrown, weedy trail vanish behind it. It was the only way in or out of his property.
That sight would have made Seth grin—visitors, as everyone knew well, were among Seth's least favourite things—b
