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“Cut out that racket!” shouted the old man that lived next door. We were only out playing spotlight with my cousins from Georgia, and weren’t really making that much noise, but he seemed to think otherwise. It was one of those beautiful summer Arkansas nights, when the sky was clear of clouds, the air lingering with the weight of rain to come, and the calls of hundreds of cicadas filled the night- they were making more “racket” than we were.

Posted By longa-flava-crinis On 06.11.2012 @ 9:40 am