Early morning had been clear and slightly crisp. A muggy heat had risen as the morning hours progressed, but now thickened gray clouds hung on the horizon cushioned in the distance by Alachua’s rising summit.
The Abercrombie plot, surrounded by a low iron gothic rail and perched atop the highest hill in the old city cemetery, overlooked Briarsville. If one stood at the eastern corner of the plot and looked toward Main Street, the steeple of the church could just be seen, rising above the trees. If fact, that was about all that could be seen from this vantage point. Andy hadn’t taken note of this fact before, but now it gave a needed sense of finality to the hard morning.
Copyright 2017 Lynn Lacher
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