The Appalachian Silence
The Appalachian Silence The coal dust never really leaves your lungs. It settles in the creases of your fingers, in the lines of your palms, in the spaces between your teeth. You stop noticing it after a while, the way you stop noticing the sound of a train that runs past your house every night at eleven. Sarah Harrison wiped her hands on her apron and looked out the kitchen window at the hill...
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