Weed

The dead weed tumbled along, carried by the wind. The wind he called Connection. Connection was doing well today.    Connection carried the weed tumbling effortlessly forward, avoiding rocks, gullies, cactus or anything else that would stop the pleasing momentum. Smoothly eastward. Eastward on to Carson City. Eastward and unaware that the Mayor had ordered a thorough clean-up, as the rodeo was also rolling into town.

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