The Rusty Mirror
The rust is the color of dried blood. Ray knows this because he spent thirty-two years at the steel mill, and he knows the color of things that have been left out in the Pennsylvania rain too long. He sits beside the mirror every morning at 6:00 AM, exactly, with a cup of instant coffee from a chipped mug that says WORLD'S OKAYEST DAD in letters that were ironic when his daughter bought it for...
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