Dear People Who Don't Crack Their Knuckles

The sky is draped in orange and purple, and the warm, desert wind wraps around you like the promise of a thousand tomorrows. The air is electrifying in its stillness, tinged with charcoal and the sense of forgotten dreams, and for just a moment you start to see it all for what it really is. You take a pull of something strong because maybe you don't want to see it that clearly, but as you tilt your head back something catches your eye. A slip of paper flaps wildly, fighting against the strength of the branches within whose arms it is caught. You walk towards it, led by a force unseen but not unfelt, the dirt road crunching beneath you. You gently unhook the paper just as the winds pick up, holding on tightly as if whatever is written on the paper is the missing piece, the string that ties it all together. You unfold the note and as you read the words, the sparkle that's been missing for so many years returns to your eyes for hope has been restored. "Well I'll be god damned." You murmur to yourself, then repeat the words aloud to no one but the wind, "It's Episode 26 aka Dear People Who Don't Crack Their Knuckles."