The House on Caddo Lake
The cypress knees broke the black water of Caddo Lake like the knuckles of hands reaching up from the bottom. Caleb Beauregard stood on the porch of the house that had belonged to his grandfather and looked at them — the knees, the water, the Spanish moss that hung from the cypress trees like funeral drapes in a culture that had forgotten how to mourn and had replaced mourning with silence...
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