It floated along with the raw sewage. It traveled with bone rattling bounces over rock, and teeth jarring jolts over the tree roots feeding well on the sewage. Snags came at every crook, as if fingers pulled dirty hair. Then with a rise it would free itself and meander on down the gentle swell of muck and mire. The woman of a couple standing on the bridge pointed and told her mate, “Oh, look! Matilda’s lost her head over that stranger in town last night! I just knew her life went to. . .
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