The Distant Legend
The ledger for the night shift at St. Jude’s General Hospital listed forty-two patients, three dozen vials of morphine, and exactly one hundred and twelve slices of black bread, each slice weighing precisely four ounces of dense, iron-heavy grain. I counted them as I always did, my fingers slick with the grease of the tins and the cold sweat of the corridor, because Dr. Vane had made it clear...
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