The Distant Joke
"You're not listening." The words hung in the air, sharp as broken glass. I looked up from the loom. The shuttle stopped mid-flight. My fingers were cold. "Margaret," he said. His voice was low. A rumble in the chest. "I am listening, Thomas." "Are you?" He stood by the window. The glass was fogged. Outside, the rain hammered the earth. It did not stop. It never stopped in October. "I am trying...
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