Mountains are broken by drips

I do not know the names of the couple that have the creamy-yellow barn. I pass it every time I come to work and every time I go home. I don’t know their names, but I do know they keep their yard well groomed, he wears a pale straw cowboy hat and they have dogs. I don’t know them, but if they are outside, I wave.

They started it. At first I thought it was a fluke, that my vehicle looked like one they knew. No. It doesn’t matter what vehicle I drove, whenever I go by, they wave.

Then it occurred to me; they are just friendly people. They wave as if to say, “hey there, neighbor,” and subscriber t...