The Faded River
The river is gone. It has been gone two winters, and still the brothers go down to the bank and stand in the grass and look at the empty bed. The mill wheel sits in the mud like a broken comb. In summer the stones of the channel are white and hot, and a man can cross from one side to the other without wetting his boots. Men say the river is hiding under the earth. That is the country way of...
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