The winding road again, my best friend and I, after a frigid morning wandering snow-crested mountains and kaleidoscope forests. Vermillion and marigold swirl around lumber trucks that pass us. Biting air batters our skin in this midwestern town square, and we duck into the warm kitsch of a cowboy bar. Beer bottles clanking and lunch-rush chatter accompany us to an old wooden table. One beer and an Old Fashioned in, I admit I am fruity as the plump cherries floating on my drink. She says it's not surprising; liquid gold falls onto pine-colored flannel, and I chuckle in agreement. Day-drunk warmth seeps into my veins, the vermillion and marigold going fuzzy. Antler arches and wood-plank buildings guide us back to her car, and we stumble into fits of laughter as our flannel floods the interior of the car with its whisky aroma.
—Bridgette Greene