“Annie Clyde had seen more than one tree uprooted in all this foul weather.  She had heard the rain every way that it fell, hard like drumming fingers, in sheets like a long sigh, in spates like pebbles tossed at the windows.  When she crossed the road and went up the bank, she could see water glinting between the tree stumps.  The river had already become a lake.”

Long Man, by Amy Greene

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