The Last Light of the Jungle

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2026-06-01 11:30:55 -

I am seventy-two years old, and every rainstorm in Alabama brings them back. Not all at once. Never all at once. It starts with the sound on the tin roof—the same rhythm as artillery, the same cadence as machine-gun fire, the same relentless percussion that used to keep me awake in a thousand different nights. Then Sean appears first, because he always does. Irish eyes that never stopped...

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