It’s falling in small drops, fat lazy ones like winter flies, but that’s not what has my attention. Somewhere nearby, they’re pinging off metal. I don’t know what to expect when I follow the noise, my path crooked and shaky. I come to a break in the trees and there in the middle of the woods is an oil well. It’s the only sign of humans that I’ve seen in weeks, so I sit down and take it in.
