Mist Willingham

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For a moment while the wind had blasted through, flattening all the weeds to the earth, I’d seen it laid bare, the two rails dark with decades of rust, the railroad ties pulverized by weather, time, and termites, lying crooked under the wrought-iron rails like the teeth in a crazy man’s smile.
Terminal  (Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper, #4)
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