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Anniversary
Ten years after one of the deadliest tornadoes in history ripped through his town, an ex-newspaper reporter remembers all that was lost and all that was left.
I could have slept in the quiet but had to leave
Hear the quiet incantation of the uncle in the corner, hear my own breath in prostration.
the brightness of the blue water reflected in their goggles
Our league is called the “Downriver League.”
