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On Cadillac Mountain, by Nathan Graziano

On the night Dar­la died, Wayne was sit­ting at the kitchen table, wash­ing down a cou­ple of her Per­co­cets with a cold Bud­weis­er, when it he slapped him like a strip of leather across his beard­ed cheek. He knew. That’s … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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