Chapter TWELVE-EMMET

Take it slow.

I had that sentence on repeat inside my brain for the entire last week.

November was hitting this part of New Jersey with a dramatic flair. Mother Nature was tossing around temperatures that swung wildly from days in the high 60s to chilly spells where the mercury barely crawled above freezing.

The crisp autumn air carried a hint of wood smoke, and the trees, dressed in their brilliant fall colors, looked like a work of art. Street art was becoming a favorite of mine, and I appreciated graffiti in a way I never had before.

The trees, though, especially the ones around her property seemed especially lovely. Like a mural of gold, orange, and crimson against the bright blue sky.

Look at me being all fanciful and shit.

I adjusted my cowboy hat on my head, manning up for my day. This morning had been easy so far, and I was here to bring the herd back now that the pens had all been properly fenced and cleaned of storm debris.

Yeah, it was a pretty morning. Real pretty.