Six Summers to Fall by C.W. Farnsworth EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: C.W. Farnsworth
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: Sports Romance
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
- Publish Date: March 23 2023
HARPER
Rain slides down the windshield in steady streams, turning the house I’m
parked in front of into nothing but a blob of yellow. Even blurry, I can
picture the sunny structure perfectly.
White shutters. Crooked railing. Front porch swing.
The same bittersweet nostalgia of encountering any connection to
childhood hits.
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A feeling that’s both familiar and reassuring. Also sad. It’s looking back
at a suspended remnant of time you’ll never get back, tinged with the
dissatisfied realization that you didn’t appreciate simplicity when you should
have. Coupled with the knowledge that everything you anticipated—
adulthood, independence—isn’t as glamorous or satisfying as you thought it
would be.
Wipers swipe, clearing the water steadily collecting on the windshield.
For a few seconds, every detail of the house’s exterior is clear, its yellow
paint and the neat row of blooming blue hydrangeas lit up by the bright glare
of car headlights.
It looks friendly and cheerful.
A welcoming escape.
Proof that appearances can be deceiving.
I turn the key in the ignition, shutting off the engine. One of the upsides
of living in lower Manhattan is how easy it is to navigate the city without
driving a car. My ancient Jeep barely leaves the garage but runs reliably
when it does, so I have no reason to replace it with a newer car that starts
with simply the press of a button. Not that I would abandon this car even if it
stopped running.
Metal teeth press into my palm as I grasp the key tightly, pulling in a final
inhale of air-conditioning before opening my door. Damp humidity
immediately seeps inside.
The wipers froze in the middle of the windshield. For a few seconds, I
contemplate turning the car back on to switch them off in the correct spot,
then decide it’s not worth the extra effort of doing so. All it would be is a
stalling tactic.
Steady drizzle saturates my hair as soon as I step out of the car onto the
clamshell driveway. My hair clings to my temples as water starts rolling
down my face and the exposed skin of my arms.
The cool glide of falling rain feels good.
Cleansing.
Grounding.
I inhale deeply, trying to suffuse my lungs with the scent of Port Haven,
Maine. It’s a melancholy smell. Sunny days and stormy nights. Easy flirting
and unrequited crushes. Happiness and heartbreak. All mixed with pine and
pure oxygen.
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