Forest fires had crisped the mountains on the long drive across British Columbia. Ashes blessed the car as they drove through scorched hills quilled with trees that looked like blackened toothpicks. A funeral pyre of their former lives.
The town of Hope sprung up under sharp blue skies irrigated by a bustling river, so they stopped. Lawns were green and Douglas Firs tickled the clouds. They could have lived in Hope, but then they saw the dogs. Continue reading
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