The Distant Threshold
The rain against the window of the St. Jude’s Home for the Aged had a rhythmic, insistent quality, a drumming that seemed to underscore the slow, grinding passage of hours within the sterile, beige confines of the facility. I sat in the corner of the common room, a young intern with a notebook balanced on my knees, watching the elderly residents drift through their daily rituals with the slow,...
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