it's getting dark out.
about 718 miles ssw of here keaton is doing only god knows what by herself.
alone on some isolated appalachian mountain top.
huddling near her little, plastic tent.
thinking those thoughts that come to a human at a time like this—alone, vulnerable, dark.
and i worry too. and i will worry all night. and i will worry until she calls me some time tomorrow.
(because i love her in a way that is so much more serious than the fun i poke at her on these pages)