Okay, cool. I actually don’t eat breakfast. I’d love some orange juice, though, if you
have any.”“In the icebox.”Icebox? Who says icebox anymore? “Thanks.
Two heavy draft horses are tied to the back of the wagon I follow,their feet the size of dinner plates.They scare me,but make good cover,so I settle in between them.Massive heads turn toward me, snorting as I plod along amongst them.
I lift my chin.“’Sup there, horsey,dudes, fellas, … guys.” I pat one of the horse’s ginormous cheeks and smile. If horses can roll their eyes at stupid comments, I swear they do.
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