The Distant Nightmare
The rain hits the glass. It sounds like teeth chattering. You are sitting in the break room. The coffee is cold. You stare at your hand. It is shaking. The tremor is fine. It is constant. It lives in the knuckles. It lives in the wrist. You have had it for three days. You went to the doctor. He looked at your chart. He looked at your face. He did not look at your hand. "You are stressed,...
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