Ten Sons
Earl brought his father home from the creek again. The old man was wet. His boots were full of water. His shirt smelled like whiskey and river mud and the peculiar sourness of a man who has been drinking from a tap that has not been cleaned in twenty years. "Come on, Daddy," Earl said. He took the old man's arm. The arm was thin. The bones were thin. The skin was thin. Everything about the old...
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