The Impossibility of Lead
The doctor called it a minor stroke. A small clot, easily treated, no lasting damage. Thomas Reilly listened to this explanation in a hospital room that smelled like antiseptic and boiled vegetables, and nodded in the way that men of his generation nod when they do not understand what the speaker is saying but do not want to appear ignorant. He was forty-two years old. He was a librarian in a...
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