Kater believed in ghosts. He loved the idea of haunting. When he died, he wanted to linger on in the Chicken’s Coop tavern and make wailing sounds every time someone ordered the stew, which was pretty often. “I never said you were stupid.” Heri leaned her elbows on her knees in the shade of a big oak tree. Sweat dripped down her forehead and drenched her dark button-down shirt and tight trousers. The other workers were scattered across the field in similar positions, trying to hide from the mid-morning sun.
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