The Wurm

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2026-06-13 14:14:51 -

The Wurm

The pharmacy was on Main Street in a town that Main Street had forgotten. Frank Miller had owned it for seven years. Seven years of sitting behind the counter, watching the parking lot, waiting for people who mostly didn't come. He was fifty-two. He wore the same clothes every day—blue slacks, white shirt, a cardigan in winter. His hair was gray and thin. He had a receding hairline that had...

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