That Old War
Nov 6 · 5 min read
“…another casualty of that old war,” the preacher droned to the crowd assembled on the hillside. It was October, when the leaves were clinging to the trees with such vigor that you would think that winter would never come, but come it must.
“It’s always the same thing with these preachers,” I said, leaning toward my companion.
He grunted, but said nothing, instead looking down to smooth out the front of his cheap…


