The Long Song Tavern
The dishes in the sink were the same dishes they had been yesterday: three plates, two glasses, a coffee mug with a chip in the rim, a fork with bent tines. Will Harper ran them under cold water, scrubbed them with a sponge that had lost most of its abrasive quality, and stacked them on a rack that leaned to the left. The water was cold. It always was. The heating system had broken in November...
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