The Vaccine of Harlem
The basement of the clinic on 135th Street smelled of mildew and possibility. Elijah Johnson stood at the workbench Dr. William Hudson had left behind, his fingers tracing the glass tubes and copper coils of equipment that belonged in a university laboratory, not a free clinic in the heart of Harlem. The microscope was a Zeiss, German-made, worth more than Elijah made in a month. The centrifuge...
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