The Last Lesson at Red Clay
Patrick O'Brien had been dying for six months, but school did not close. The red clay of south-central Kansas had absorbed his footsteps for thirty-five years, and the one-room schoolhouse—painted white, roof patched with tin—stood as stubbornly as he did, a small white tooth in the gum of the prairie. He sat at his desk on the last Tuesday of October 1923, his hands thin as parchment on the...
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