Mr. Johnathan Goffe waits to make his picture. He sits cross-legged in the sandy front range soil high on a hill overlooking a greener valley. Above and to his left the ragged mountains enjoy the rain. Johnathan’s brass finger tips tek-tek-tek the counting spell he’s enamored the camera with. He bought the spell from a local shopkeeper. Normally he’d have brought plenty of his own along, but they’d gone stale from the dry weather during his journey. One of his spells would have already made the picture. This one would be a surprise.
Tek-tek-tek-tek. The shutter would snap any moment, but it didn’t and hadn’t, not yet. The picture he’d expected drifted away an hour ago and the rain was getting heavier. Johnathan struggled to imagine how it might become better. That’s how waiting always feels, he thought. Like you’ve over stayed your welcome at a friend’s cottage and now they just wish you’d pack up your gears and leave.
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