Finding Georgia.

The wind rubbed circles on my cheeks. I smelled grass for the first time as its scent danced on my skin. In the shallow valley below, goats peppered the field. What a place to watch the sunset begin.

Hints of lemon butter would interrupt the breeze sporadically, accompanied by a stray wisp of hair tickling my shoulder. I rested a hand on her knee and sighed. If only she knew the story leading up to that sunset on that grassy hill in Georgia.

It was a country stuck comfortably in the past. The modern world was, just as I, a mere tourist. And that’s the only way I could’ve…