The Devil's Fiddle and the Drought Box
The heat in the Delta does not lift. It sits upon you like a live thing, breathing hot and wet across your chest until you cannot tell whether you are sweating or being sweated by the world. Jebidiah Crowe knew this heat the way a man knows the inside of his own skull. Forty-five years of it, pressed into his skin until his face was the color of cured tobacco and his hands were maps of callus...
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