She clutches the letter to her breast, and hurries back up the walk. The envelope, dropped and forgotten, blows down the lane, lodging against the signpost in Mrs. Carmichael’s yard.
“Mom?” she calls.
Her mother turns, a lock of hair tumbles free.
I’m just along for the ride this week but I somehow managed to snag the “Hitchhiker’s Prize” How cool is that?
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