One October night Sandra Russell was driving on a country road, headed for town to meet a friend who was performing at a local nightclub. There was a breeze blowing the treetops and strands of shifting fog low to the ground. Just as she crested a big hill, she saw below what looked like a specter, someone in white. Maybe someone dancing? As the car slowed, she realized it was just a neighbor in a long nightgown, picking up her mail from across...
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Poetry