The Rejected
ACT I The man at the Veterans Administration office told me my name didn't exist. I sat across from him at a desk that smelled like boiled coffee and despair. He was a small man with thinning hair and glasses that slid down his nose every time he looked at a computer screen. The screen was blank. Not frozen. Blank. Like it had been wiped clean of everything I was supposed to be. "Let me try...
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