““Crazy thing about dirt roads. Get very much rain and they’d pack down like tracks of clay, sticking to tires and caking to the wheel wells. Have a drought, though, and the dust would puff up for what seemed like a mile following a car’s path, turning the sky into a dingy haze. Dirt-colored smoke. Maybe Holly had lived there long enough that her heart mirrored the roads. It had been one heck of a dry season, but she’d seen a few showers lately. If she could just learn hang onto those downpours a little longer, maybe the dry days wouldn’t cause such a deep ache.””
