A thick fog covers the ground like a blanket, and obscures the winter sun. Just above freezing, a light misty rain can be felt but not seen. The unusually still air amplifies echoes of footfalls on cold pavement.
A crow caws on an empty tree that looks like the withered hand of a hundred-fingered skeleton. The landscape that was only days ago brightly colored in the hues of autumn has now all turned to varying shades of gray. It feels like a scene from a movie. You should be at a funeral or delivering some bad news. It is but December.
Good one.
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