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“Way off, a mourning dove called, long and throaty, and the mountains picked it up and echoed the sound over and over, carrying it farther and farther away until you wondered how many mountains and hollows that call would travel – and it died away, so far, it was more like a memory than a sound.”
― Forrest Carter, The Education of Little Tree
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Look at Her
By: Delonda Anderson
He left work early and didn’t expect her to be home. But the hazy air from a fresh shower greeted him as soon as he opened the door. A pungent linen soap pierced his nostrils. He saw her straightaway at the small kitchen table in her pink bunny bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel. Her legs were crossed, one