The Faded Shield
Act I The city held its breath, a heavy, wet thing that did not release its grip on the lungs. Rosalie Soileau stood at the window of her cramped apartment on the fourth floor, watching the storm strip the cypress knees from the bayou below, the water rising in dark, churning lines against the concrete embankment. She was thirty-four, and the weight of her father’s name sat on her chest like a...
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