The Distant Clue
The air in the basement of St. Jude’s Home for the Aged Always Smelled of damp wool and lavender sachets that had long since lost their potency, a scent that clung to your clothes and your skin like a second, heavier layer of identity. You were fourteen, a year older than the other residents who occupied the small, cinder-block rooms on the lower level, and you had been here for six weeks,...
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