The Ground Water
The town of Oakhaven was the kind of place where the wind always smelled of damp earth and old regrets. I’m a man of simple habits—I work the mill, I drink my beer, and I love my wife, Sarah. Sarah was the heart of our home, a woman whose kindness was the only thing that kept the greyness of the Midwest from swallowing us whole. Then the "naturalism" started. It began as a phase. Sarah became...
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