58 lede

It's Almost Like a Vacuum
by Ian Moore

It was snowing. The river had become frozen stiff, with each stick, stump or bush protruding like a rib through skin. On the west side lay a barn, dark and gray, where two men, maybe in their mid-fifties, stood bundled in thick coats of wool and anchored by sturdy boots capped with steel. From a distance, one man appeared a limbless figure next to the gray wood.
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