"But this too is true: stories can save us. I'm forty-three years old, and a writer now, and even still, right here, I keep dreaming Linda alive. And Ted Lavender too, and Kiowa, and Curt Lemon, and a slim young man I killed, and an old man sprawled beside a pig-pen, and several others whose bodies I once lifted and dumped into a truck. They're all
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