The Crystallization of Silas Thibodeaux
At a certain temperature, men do not melt. They crystallize. They become rigid, geometric arrangements of their former selves, and everything that was fluid in them hardens into angles. I learned this in the bayou at noon on a Tuesday in August, standing knee-deep in water that was warmer than blood. The temperature had crossed ninety-seven degrees before ten in the morning, and by noon the air...
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