Lisa_crossing_field Today

: As the sun dipped lower, the wheat turned from gold to a fiery crimson, casting long, dancing shadows that stretched toward the trees. The Other Side

: The wind didn't just blow; it seemed to carry fragments of songs she almost recognized. lisa_crossing_field

: There wasn't one. She had to trust the pull in her chest, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of her own heart. : As the sun dipped lower, the wheat