The Wistful Saga
Act I Ondine LaFleur drove a taxi with a mortgage on the roof, and she wanted out. The engine hummed a low B-flat, a sound that had worn into the metal over twenty years of hauling people across the bayou mud. She sat in the driver’s seat, the leather cracked like dry earth, listening to the road. It was a road that never stopped sounding, a constant grinding of gravel against the asphalt that...
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