“Even in June” by Kathleen McGookey

Snow fell on the mountains and the towns that faced them, on the interstate and the creek running beside. Snow swirled against the gray sky and gray cement, dizzy with so much falling. Someone woke the silver machines who of course remembered their task. No one broke the dream. And the four of us—so far apart, thousands of miles—could never reach each other in time. So we lit a single light in our bones. Like hope.

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