“I wandered off the trail and found it one day,” Sam says. “It reminded me of the song I always play for you. The one you listen to when you write. I know you’ve been having some trouble thinking lately. I thought that, maybe if you saw it in person … the fields of gold … it would inspire you to write again.” A breeze blows strands of hair across my face and I leave it. “Why didn’t you bring me here sooner?” “I was waiting for the right moment to show it to you. I had it all planned out. It was supposed to be special. I didn’t know I would run out of time.”
