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in the wake of the boy’s death, he was left with neither the ice-smooth paralysis of shock, nor the crystalline focus of grief, but rather with a heart-swelling package of murky and miserable ironies.
Threaded voices lifted and flew, shawling over the guests who drew nearer and linked arms out of nostalgia or maybe even love, a gathering of woven souls marooned high above a green and thrashing sea.
Hobson Christian College, a quintet of soulless buildings on twenty acres of desecrated farmland.

