Sample V-13: The Reluctant Echo
(Style B2: Southern Gothic) The humidity of Georgia in July is a physical weight, a wet blanket that smells of pine needles and old regrets. I never wanted to touch a baseball. I spent my youth in the archives of the county courthouse, content to be a ghost among the records of dead men. But my cousin, Silas, was a different kind of ghost—a man whose ambition was a fever that burned through...
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