The Dust That Stays
The ledger book lay open on the kitchen table, its leather cover cracked along the spine like dried riverbed clay. The columns marched down the yellowed page in pencil that had been sharpened too many times — stub figures, the graphite pressed hard enough to leave grooves in the paper. March 1932: twenty-three dollars paid against the seed loan. April 1932: twelve dollars and forty cents. May...
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