The Distant Crown
The mop bucket was heavy, filled with gray water that smelled of bleach and old sweat, and your hands ached from the grip, the knuckles swollen and white against the plastic handle. You were scrubbing the linoleum in the main hall of the St. Jude’s Community Center, the floor soiled with the footprints of a hundred people who had come in for soup and gone out into the cold November night. You...
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