The Faded Attic
Chapter One The rain belt of the Pacific Northwest was a place where the sky hung low and gray, pressing the earth into the mud, and the air tasted of wet wool and old coal. In the shadow of the old timber mills, where the sawdust still settled on the shoulders of men who had worked the lines for thirty years, the light came in thin, slanted shafts that did not warm anything. June Yancey stood...
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