The app for independent voices

Her father, Eli, was a coal miner. He left before dawn and came back after dark, as if his whole life were being played out between two darknesses. There was always a little dust left on his face, even after he washed. As if the coal had found a way to remain inside the lines of his skin. He was not tall. Not broad shouldered in the way people describe men who break stone.

Where the Mountain Kept Us
Apr 2
at
6:22 PM
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