The Wistful Mountain
You are sitting in the back of a sputtering police cruiser, the vinyl seat warm and sticky against your trousers, while the rain hammers against the rear window in a rhythm that feels less like weather and more like a warning. The car is moving slowly up a steep, winding road that cuts through the heart of the Appalachian foothills, a place where the trees grow so thick they seem to swallow the...
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