Lydorn

 The familiar sounds of the fair swept over me in a roar of carousel music and children laughing. I smiled, imagining I could hear my son's laugh mingled in with the other hundreds of childrens'. The smell of popcorn, funnel cake, and cotton candy saturated the air. It was a perfect day for the fair; the weather was cool, the humidity low, and it seemed like everyone I knew was there. I stood watching the carousel, picking out my favorite horse, Peregrin. He isn't the lead horse, has scuff marks all over, is dilapidated and some of the black paint is flaking off; in appearances he's a mess. But he has character. My initials, K. J., are wri