Chapter 5:
If Thaddeus had been a poet, he would have resisted describing the scene they saw. It was too cliché. Out of town, they mostly traveled through fog and the visible part of the path before them was a slim sliver.
What better way for a writer to escape describing the countryside than shrouding it in fog and mist. Gray was as boring as any color could be, and the two men were encased in gray.
He knew, shortly, the spring months would come and the land on either side of the road would come alive with color. Hope would be in the air as birds sang and animals gave birth in the fields. New life would surround him in abundance and pleasant smells of nature.
Now the road smelled of wet dog and had the look of a nun’s gray habit pulled over his head. Boring was the only word he could
