The Old Woman's Universe
The attic of Cosmview smelled like camphor and forgotten things. Daisy Mae Calloway pulled a trunk from beneath the eaves and found, beneath a stack of moth-eaten quilts, a bundle of manuscripts wrapped in oilcloth. She was seventy-three years old, divorced twice, retired from the Sainte-Lumière Public Library where she'd worked for thirty-eight years, and had spent the last six months cleaning...
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