The Last Lesson of Father Connolly
The November wind howled around the thin walls of the Connemara schoolhouse like a thing denied entry, and inside, Father Patrick Connolly coughed through a full quarter of an hour while the children sat rigid in their wooden benches, watching the gray light of an almost-dead afternoon slip through the single window. When the coughing finally ceased, he straightened his spine against the chalk...
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