Inside was a mound of human hair: fine red, horse blonde, golden blonde, ash brown, and wiry black. In a distant, hollowed-out room, young, female voices bounced off the walls. If not, we'd have to drive to Minneapolis. Barbed wire hung across, a property marker I never understood. Every once in a while, a semi would come at me without dimming its brights and, momentarily, I'd go blind. Then I remembered this would have to be weeks from now.
Jordyn. Age: 31.
That was in the Dark Ages, around the time you were born.
Meadow. Age: 30.
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In a distant, hollowed-out room, young, female voices bounced off the walls. I parked by a bridge and we walked along the flooded bank. A woman wearing a plastic whistle was guarding the front desk. The water would be fast and cold.