The Recursion of One Life
Layer One: The Ad Man The 5:17 from Grand Central to Westport smelled of wool, newsprint, and the faint sourness of martinis sweating through their owners pores. Harrison Crane, who had been Harry since his mother first called him in from the backyard on Buttonball Lane in 1922, sat in the smoking car with a briefcase on his lap and a half-finished Old Fashioned balanced on the windowsill. The...
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