e walks through the spitting rain, hand held to his forehead so the water doesn't get into his eyes. Chill wind rips through his clothes, icing his very bones. He shrugs his bag into a more comfortable spot on his back and plods on in his mud spattered boots.
It's been a long day.
Miles traveled.
Obstacles overcome.

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Between the Locks Bock

Rye Pale Ale

LP Double IPA