Miss in the Mist

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Leaves rustle at the edge of the woods in early morning light. Light rain tickles my cheek like the swish of an artist's brush. Brush and bramble quiver again, and one prickly vine drops a few of the ripe blackberries it bears.

Bears amble into sight. Sight the camera, zoom in close! Close the stops, focus quickly, catch this scene like none I've snapped before...

Before I can shoot, the last bear leaves.

.

From a writing challenge from years ago: Start each new sentence with the word that ends the previous one.

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