The Shadow Over Willow Creek
The drought had lasted ninety-three days when Arthur Shen's car rolled into Willow Creek, and the whole town felt it like a sickness in the bones. The creek had shrunk to a muddy trickle. The cotton fields were brown and brittle. Even the mosquitoes had given up. Clara Lin locked her general store at seven in the evening and walked home through streets that smelled of dust and dead grass. The...
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