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ID-0270: Sweet As Apple Pie

The morning broke under a blanket of grey clouds, soft and heavy, stretching low across the horizon like a woolen shawl drawn tightly around the earth. Rain had fallen gently through the early hours, leaving behind a mist that clung to every blade of grass and darkened the dirt paths underfoot; the kind of day that seemed to speak in hushes and murmurs, without a glare or a blaze, just all quiet like a silent breath and soft edges. THe young blonde stood at the trailer with her hand resting a...