The Postscript: Summer Storm

The Postscript: Summer Storm

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I was headed out for my daily hike. There was thunder in the distance. “It’s getting lighter,” my husband, Peter, said. “I don’t think we’re going to get any rain.” The air smelled like a storm to me, but what do I know? If my dog, Milo, were still alive, I would have asked him. Milo would huddle in the corner of the kitchen when a thunderstorm approached. ...

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