The Theater Of Infinite Mirrors
The Connecticut winter of 1957 arrived with a crust of frost that made every windshield a landscape of fractured crystal. Arthur Pendelton stood at his second-story desk in the Greylock Advertising building on Route 7, watching the salt trucks crawl through the dawn like mechanical beetles dragging their iron tails. He was thirty-eight years old, which in the world of suburban advertising meant...
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