Ethan finds himself in 1863, on a farm where a brother and sister live. He’s nervous about their customs, their food, even the water they drink.
Ethan is talking to Hes in the kitchen over a bucket of water. He’s thirsty.
“It hasn’t been polluted with something?”
“Like, you haven’t washed underwear in it?”
She stared. “You are joking with me.”
“Only a little.”
I’m planning to release this one May 1. Even as I work on this, I already have two more stories swirling around in my head.
To think, I once worried I’d run out of ideas.