The Faded Attic
Act I Ramon Delgado remembered the sound of the cart before he saw the water. It squeaked in the one place where the axle rubbed the wood, a dry, wooden complaint that had marked the rhythm of his mornings for six years. He stood now in the dry, dusty air of the new state, looking back at the Andalusian estate that was already half-submerged in the rising spring flood. The insurance had lapsed...
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