Rook McNamara

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“And the leg?” I open my mouth, and close it. I want nothing more than to tell him how it screams and howls sometimes, and sometimes is as silent and obedient as its twin. I want to tell him how when it is rainy or foreboding I wake in the middle of the night muffling screams into my pillows, how the pain comes in low like a wave and then washes over me,
The Apple-Tree Throne
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