The Wistful Witness
The truck idles. The engine ticks as it cools. You look at your hands. They are shaking. Not from cold. The air is still. The heat shimmers off the asphalt. You smell diesel and dry grass. You smell old blood. You smell the sweat of the day. You are in Harrow Creek. It is a town that holds its breath. People here speak low. They watch their step. They watch you. You are the new man. The...
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