the other rows of green and purple plants that sat upon dark soil or the radiant yellow poplars that had begun to spring up across the valley or the calm chirping of goldfinches. Instead the sour smell of compost baking in the sun wafted into my face, greeting me once I stepped off the path, and I wanted to run away from it, back up the hill. ~ By the time I reached the top of the path again that night, my classmates were already there. Their bodies, lined up in two rows shoulder-to-shoulder, mirrored the lines of crops, which were invisible in the darkness. I was met with the comfortable silence of another starry night, and I found a place in line to sit. The garden and the shed that stood behind me were camouflaged with the blackness, and all there was to see was in front of me. Something sharp stung my shoulder, but I refused to turn my head towards the person next to me. Without the heat from their bodies and the light smell of sweat that drifted through the heavy air, I would have thought I was lying alone. The quiet breathing of my friends beside me was pleasant, warming my heart despite the light breeze. Eventually the singing of crickets must have melted into strumming on a guitar, but the painting of stars was too captivating for me to notice.
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