The Judge of Bayou Creek
The coat was charcoal gray and smelled of camphor and old rain. Elias Thorne had bought it from a charity shop in New Orleans for two dollars the week before he decided to leave the city. It was too warm for July, but he wore it anyway because it made him feel like a man who still had somewhere to be. He had not had somewhere to be for eleven months. That was how long it had been since the...
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