The Wistful Grid
October 12, 1998 The tremor in my right hand has begun to interfere with the delicate work of lifting the pages of the 1954 municipal zoning files, a condition that feels less like a medical diagnosis and more like a personal betrayal by my own body. I am forty-two years old, a senior archivist at the state library, and my contract expires at the end of December, meaning I have precisely two...
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