“No one’s ever made it to the end of the breezeway,” Clif said with a shake of his head. “They run and they run, but that green you see there it don’t ever get closer.”

“Why do they try?” Lee asked and pulled her scarf tighter as another gust of cold winter wind blasted through the unprotected space.

“They say if you can make it to the end, to the green, on that side is paradise.”

“Have you tried?”

Clif nodded then  turned so he could blame his tears on the wind.

Lee stared at the far patch of green then turned and began walking back to camp. “One day I’ll try to,” she said. “And I’ll make it, too.”

“I’d like to see that,” Clif said as he caught up.

Lee nodded. “You’ll be with me old friend. Together, after the wind changes, we’ll make a run at paradise.”