Post #100: Chuck felt his pulse quicken, strengthen, boom in the successive waves of light. The city was coming.
Post #99: Chuck remembered the coloured roofs and the call that used come from them, a signal to warn of the dark at the beginning of the day, when the windows seemed all the higher.
Post #98: Chuck yelled his frustrations up to the vault, where they echoed and played before they faded away.
Post #96: Chuck could never forget that winter was a hazardous time, when cooler winds brought cooler thoughts and frost encircled all.
Post #94: Chuck did not need bright yellow painted stripes to remind him that the ground was ever present.
Post #92: Chuck loved such days, when he could just stand on his toes, reach up and brush a hand upon the firmament.
