The Wistful Letter
The rain did not fall so much as it was extruded from the sky, a viscous, gray sludge that coated the windshield of my sedan in a film that no amount of wiper movement could fully clear. I sat in the driver’s seat of the hospital parking lot, the engine ticking as it cooled, and stared at the intake form clipped to the clipboard in my lap. The document was dense with bureaucratic language, a...
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