What the air does out here
Mile 98 is the first cold night of the year, and every bed in the Basin turns flannel. The lines fill one last time before dark to get ready, sheets coming in warm off the line, bergamot bright over a deep mahogany evening with a hint of musk. Nobody schedules flannel sheet night. The whole Basin holds it the same week anyway.
Who rides with it
The one who declares it a holiday and receives no argument. Kids who take a running start at the bed. The dog, who established prior claim years ago and has never once been outvoted.
Pair it at the next stop
This closes the road's longest arc: the wash went up cotton at first light at Beach Linen, Mile 1, came back leather on a bunkhouse Monday at Cowboy Britches, Mile 78, and turns down flannel here at dark. The line has been working toward this bed all road.