The House on Cypress Road
Caleb Harlow returned to Oakhaven, Mississippi, because the house was dying and he was the only one who knew how to read its symptoms. He had been gone twenty years, working as a bookkeeper in Atlanta, sending money home on the first of every month, pretending that the red clay roads and the cypress swamp and the house that leaned slightly to the east like an old woman squinting at the horizon...
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