The Honest Reader
ACT IThe crystal ball sat on Jimmy Callahan's desk like a paperweight with delusions of grandeur. He had bought it at a flea market in the East Village for two dollars, and it served its purpose well enough: it gave people something to stare at while he stared at them.The woman who sat across from him now was unlike any other client. She wore no perfume, no jewellery, no attempt at mystery. She...
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