The Boy in the Hallway
Devereaux Hall had been dying for thirty years. It was not a dramatic death. There were no collapses, no dramatic storms, no fires that reduced the plantation house to ash and memory. It was slower than that. It was a slow leaching, room by room, like a man who loses his money not in a single bankruptcy but in a thousand small purchases that he does not notice until the bank tells him he has...
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