The Shadow Beneath the Oak
The heat in Mississippi did not merely sit upon you—it pressed, heavy as a hand, suffocating as a shroud. Roger Connolly knew this heat better than any man alive. He had grown up in it, breathed it, learned to move through it like a fish moves through water. Now at forty-two, he was a professor of sociology at the University of Jackson, and the last descendant of a family that had once owned...
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