The Engine at Oakhaven
The heat arrived in June, but it had been coming for longer than anyone could remember. Silas McCallister sat on the porch of Oakhaven plantation and watched the sun. It was wrong. That was the only word for it. The sun was too large, too red, too close. It hung in the Georgia sky like a cataract eye, unblinking, watching. At midday, the temperature reached one hundred and twelve degrees. At...
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