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Farm's yield darius-cotoi-l2BPNadI3tc-unsplash copy.jpg
Farm's Yield

Literary Orphans


… He recalled the hum of her tiny ribcage against his, years ago, beneath the rumble of the combine. What he had smiled to think was joy. What he now understood, instead, was a child’s goodbye to dying things—as even from his chest, she had addressed the rows of wheat, falling one by one beneath his wheels.


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