The Sleeping Sickness
ACT I — THE BIG SLEEP My father closed his eyes at 7:12 on a Wednesday in March 1954, and he did not open them again. I was fourteen, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee that tasted like the dregs of something that had been good once, watching my father read the newspaper and drink his coffee and smile at the crossword puzzle in a way that told me he had found the answer to a...
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