the windiest day, atop a hill in rolling-green-texas. sunshine on everything, the world was quiet and hunter made good on a promise, true to his word, 2020 would be their year.

the kind of clouds you dream about and want to drift away on. the kind of rain that’s so thin and misty it settles like a fog. and all the greens sang to life and those tender touches and hand brushes and laughs and heart pounds—those things just magnified times a million because good glory that soft, hazy, autumnal light. that’s not a sentence but it’s how i felt.