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The dust kicked up softly around Julian's boots

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as he walked the final row of the

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afternoon.

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He plucked a single grape from a heavy

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cluster, rolling the dark, sun -warmed skin between

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his fingers before popping it into his mouth.

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It burst with a flavor of sweet earth

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and late summer rain, the exact taste of

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patience.

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All around him, the countryside landscape came alive

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in a symphony of amber and rust.

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The setting sun caught the edges of the

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detailed leaves, turning the sprawling vineyard into

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a sea of glittering green and gold.

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Beyond the rows of grapevines, the rolling hills

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rose and fell like waves of an ancient,

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petrified ocean, blanketed in the rich hues of

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the fading day.

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Julian paused, wiping his brow with the back

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of his hand, and looked up toward the

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heart

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of the farm.

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Standing sentinel against the burning horizon was the

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rustic farmhouse, its weathered stone

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walls and timber beams holding centuries of quiet

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stories.

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A thin curl of smoke rose from the

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chimney, signaling that supper was beginning to simmer

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inside.

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He smiled, feeling the familiar, deep -seated peace

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settle into his bones.

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The harvest was nearly ready, and as the

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warm sunlight dipped below the ridge, bathing the

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golden vineyard hills in twilight, Julian knew there

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was nowhere else on earth he was

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meant to be.