The Distant Machine
October 12, 1998 The drive up from Boston took six hours, and the only thing that kept me awake was the weight of my own hands. I have not spoken to you in three years, Elias, but I am here because the doctor said you have weeks, perhaps months, and I felt a physical compulsion to return that was indistinguishable from pain. I am forty years old, and I have spent the last decade trying to build...
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