The Faded Dust
The rain had been falling since Tuesday, a steady, cold sheet that turned the gravel of the county road into a slurry of brown mud, and I stood in the doorway of my kitchen, wiping my hands on a rag that was already gray with flour, listening to the silence that had settled over the shop after Silas slammed the door. He was twenty-four, with hands that were still soft, and he had just told me...
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