Contributor: Ken Sparling - - The road came to an end. There was a small white sign. Beyond that, there was a dirt trail, and she set out to walk it. It wound between high ridges. There was a river. She had never seen a place like this. I could never find the words to say the things I felt, and the situation today was no different. I removed my monocle from my left eye and looked away from the book I was reading. A window was open somewhere, although it seemed to me that it was not the time of year to be opening windows. Cold air touched my ankles and wrists and my chin and ears. The tip of my nose was very cold. I lifted the monocle back to my eye and looked again to the book. I read a sentence silently, to myself. It was as much as I could take in all at once, a single sentence (more than I could take in, in fact) so I looked up...

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Author: Ken Sparling