The Faded Root
The heat shimmer on the road turned the asphalt into a liquid mirror, reflecting the hollowed-out shells of the factory region that had reinvented itself as heritage, a place where the air smelled of sulfur and stale coffee from the roadside diner where I worked my slow shift. I am Camille LaCour, forty-two, a pool cleaner to the newly rich who have bought up the bayou settlements, and my...
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