The Golden Downtown
The mug was heavy, a thick slab of cream-colored ceramic that my mentor, Arthur, had bought in a flea market in 1998 for four dollars, a sum he claimed was a bargain because the glaze was uneven and the handle had a hairline fracture running through the base. I held it with both hands, the heat seeping into my palms, feeling the weight of it as a counterbalance to the lightness of my own...
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