The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-17 11:40:13 -

The old water tower, a rusted sentinel of corrugated steel and peeling paint, stood at the apex of Miller’s Hill like a broken tooth protruding from the gum of the town, its shadow stretching long and thin across the manicured lawns of the cul-de-sacs below, where the air was always thick with the scent of wet asphalt and the impending, suffocating humidity of a late July afternoon that refused...

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