The Faded Attic
The chisel is in your hand, and it is heavy, heavier than it should be, the wood shavings curling up like dried skin before they fall to the floor. You are trying to cut the final joint of the oak cabinet, the one that will secure the insurance payout, but your fingers are locked in a vice that is not yours. October 14, 1998 The air in the attic is thick, a physical weight pressing against your...
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