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Carthage, Illinois
As a lot of you know, I grew up in the “real” Carthage, Illinois, the same small […]
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From Joe's writing

Ruskin glanced at his watch, startled to see that it was nearly two in the morning. Might as well get this over with. Slowly, methodically, the Sheriff worked the muzzle of the handgun into his mouth, released the safety, and cocked back the hammer. Jesus forgive me, he thought, his finger tightening on the trigger, as he began to squeeze.

— Small Things, Chapter 22