The Distant Crown
The air in the hallway of St. Jude’s Rehabilitation and Memory Center smelled of lemon disinfectant and the damp, earthy scent of wet wool, a combination that Eleanor had come to associate with the slow, inevitable erosion of everything that mattered, as she stood by the window watching the rain streak the glass in long, distorted lines that looked like tears on the face of the building, and...
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