When the Water Goes Down, They Come Up
The drought took Cormorant Lake down eleven feet. Then nineteen. Then a number they stopped putting on the news — because the water had finally dropped far enough to givethe drowned town of Harlow back. Everyone came to see the steeple. Nobody should have gone out onto the mud.
They're still down there, standing in the cut, facing the deep. And when one of them turns to look at you, it will know your name. It will know your first dog, and the summer you broke your arm, and the thing you're ashamed of that you'venever told a living soul. It will have all of you — smooth, complete, nothing…
The skinny
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