“You have to hit eighty-eight miles before you reach the lights.” James laughed and extended his arms. He moved side to side, feeling the wind against him. His backpack pulled his weight backward, making him loose his footing. Standing up, he cleaned his muddy hands over his jeans before pushing his beanie further down his damp hair.
“Doc, I’m almost there. I’m not going to make it.” He walked faster. And as soon as he reached the dimmed lights, a strong flash propelled his body forward. The fog was finally gone.
“Nice to have you home,” Doc said.
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