The Distant Journey
The rent was forty-two pounds over, a number that sat in my mind with the weight of a stone in a shoe. I counted the coins in my purse, three pennies and a dime, against the cold metal of the desk drawer, while the dust motes in the library’s east wing drifted in the slanted afternoon light. It was a quiet kind of collapse, not the dramatic crumbling of stone, but the slow, suffocating...
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