Paragraph of the Week (Part 3)

Here is the next installment, which I will (finally) be keeping to one true paragraph.

A wind, one seemingly born from the bellowing giant’s girth, whipped over the lake, howling and sweeping over the path with ice tipped mists. A flimsy, copper colored railing separated John from the waters and rocks below; he leaned against it, his bare arms meeting the chilled metal. Sighing, looking out over the waters, John clutched the key and watched the same scene he had seen for four years begin to play.


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