The Snowbirds

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Grant’s Journal

I’m not sure what day it is anymore.

“I’m lost!” I say to the man. “I’m lost!”

I wave, I scream.

A boulder, not a man.

I’m screaming at boulders.

I’m done for.

If not for you and Dort and March, I would be at peace. A funny saying.

At peace.

Peace is a place.