Wet Footprints

She slept with her bare feet dangling outside the window,
letting the Northwest drizzle tickle them while she lay aslumber.
Some nights were spent with visions of lodgepole pines reaching the blue skies without telephone poles to interrupt the panoramic view. Other nights, she dreamed of burning houses and needles.
She awoke to the gassy bus stop sounds, the smell of auto fumes, and the thump of stacks of newspapers pounded on pavement.
But each day, she tucked her refreshed feet inside the warmth of her apartment though and left wet footprints for friends to follow her back to Eden.

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