Darin Lovelace

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As he went, he thrust his hand inside his jacket to protect the stone thing. It was warm and stained because his father had pressed it to his body. He ran and stumbled over the sweep of turf and rock. The stone grew hot against his flesh, and though it was not heavy, it seemed to take on an unfathomable weight, as if it bore the being, the life, of a man.
Strangers and Sojourners
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