Windmills split town and families
"Listen," John Yancey says, leaning against his truck in a field outside his home.
The rhythmic whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of wind turbines echoes through the air. Sleek and white, their long propeller blades rotate in formation, like some otherworldly dance of spindly-armed aliens swaying across the land.
Yancey stares at them, his face contorted in anger and pain.
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