If Only You Could Choose When You Live

He saw her and  knew she didn’t belong in the subway. Nor in the city made of concrete, asphalt, stone, brick and glass. She was a wild one. More at home in the untamed frontier. In the tall grasses and solemn forests. Pine needles should be under her feet not cigarette butts and wads of gum and cracked sidewalks.

She belonged in sunlight fields, waist deep in wildflowers, a cool summer breeze blowing through her hair as she led her horse to a nearby stream.

But here she was, just another anonymous face on her way to some stuffy office.

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