The Wistful Grid
The letter was found in the pocket of a coat that had hung on a hook for forty years. It was not addressed to anyone. It was not signed by anyone. It was only a record. It began with a question. Are you still there? The writer did not say who was asking. The writer did not say where the writer was. The paper was thin. It was yellowed at the edges. It smelled of damp earth and old iron. The ink...
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