I.
You think this town loves you? This town never loved you. This town loves slouching old houses and soupy bayou summers. Cigarette butts glowing in the backwater. Watchful eyes burning in the trees.
II.
Look out for old men in broken rockers. Look out for alligators by the riverbank. Look out for the cicadas, shrilling warnings in the mangroves. You’re not as alone as you think.
III.
Maybe this is why we draw our curtains closed at night. Maybe this is why we cross ourselves and wear silver chains around our necks.
IV.
You think this town is holy? This town was never holy. This was the devil’s land long before it was ours. Nothing holy has lived here in years.
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