The House on Verger's Lane
The road had no business being so wide. It cut through the Mississippi delta like a scar, red clay bleeding at the edges, magnolia trees leaning over it like old men at a funeral. Clarice Starling drove down it in her father's rusted Pontiac, the air conditioning wheezing something between a death rattle and a prayer, and thought: this is the road they named after them, the Vergers, the family...
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