David Gilbert Reads “Come Softly to Me”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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The Northern Goss Hawk
Miles curled his index finger into a makeshift scope. The dark cap, the blue-gray upper parts, "'the dense, rufous bands on the underparts" Hugo punched Miles in the arm to let him know he could have been punched harder. 'A goddamn freaking northern gossack, right here, begging to be identified'
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