In the Meadow Next to the Rented House Leah Browning There was a long road leading up to the house we rented that summer. A brown wooden house with two stories and rustic wood siding and darker brown wood shingles on the roof. On one side of the gravel drive was the tall brown house and on the other side was a wide meadow and a pair of horses separated from us by a delicate wire fence. The meadow was dotted with little yellow wildflowers as if it were a picture postcard we intended to send back to our families. You washed carrots and went outside. But which story will this be? Soft lighting, wind chimes hung from the eaves, the suggestion of wild mint growing along the fence? Or will the horse turn its head and bruise or even break the skin?
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